UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 

BROWSING  ROOM 


J^onore  tie  iSal^ac 


LIMITED    TO   ONE    THOUSAND   COMPLETE  COPIES 


NO. 


713 


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PIERROT  IN  PRESENTED  TO  MME. 
CLAP  ART 


''Do  we  lunch  there,  Pierrotiuf'  said  Oscar  in  a 
loud  voice,  as  lie  slapped  the  carrier  on  the  sJioiUder. 

"  /  am  not  the  driver,''  said  Pierroiin. 

"  What  are  you.,  then?''    Colonel  Husson  asked. 

"  The  contractor,"  Pierrotin  replied. 

"  Come,  don't  be  angry  with  old  acquaintances," 
said  Oscar,  as  he  pointed  to  his  mother  and  ivith- 
out  abandoning  his  patronirjing  tone.  "  Don't  you 
recognize  Madame  Clapart  f" 


THE  NOVELS 


OF 


HONORfi  DE  BALZAC 


NOW   FOR   THE   FIRST   TIME 
COMPLETELY   TRANSLATED    INTO    ENGLISH 


A  START  IN  LIFE 
MADAME  FIRMIANI 
THE  MESSAGE 
THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS 

BY  FRANCIS  T.  FUREY 


WITH    FIVE     ETCHINGS    BY    HENRI-JOSEPH    DUBOUCHET, 
AFTER   PAINTINGS   BY    ORESTE   CORTAZZO 


IN  ONE  VOLUME 


4  * 


PRINTED  ONLY  FOR  SUBSCRIBERS  BY 

GEORGE   BARRIE   &  SON,   PHILADELPHIA 


COPYRIGHTED,    1 896,   BY   G.    B.    &   SON 


A  START  IN  LIFE 


189939 


TO  LAURE 

Let  the  brilliant  and  modest  mind  that  inspired 
me  with  the  subject  of  this  scene  have  the  honor 
of  it! 

Her  Brother, 

De  Balzac. 


(3) 


A  START  IN  LIFE 


In  a  now  near  future  the  railroads  must  make 
certain  industries  disappear  and  modify  some 
others,  especially  those  that  concern  the  different 
modes  of  conveyance  in  use  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Paris.  And  so  ere  long  the  persons  and  things  that 
are  the  elements  of  this  scene  will  make  it  worthy 
of  being  called  a  study  in  archeology.  Will  not 
our  nephews  be  delighted  to  know  the  social  make- 
up of  a  period  that  they  will  call  the  olden  time? 
Thus  the  picturesque  cuckoos — one-horse  chaises — 
taking  their  stand  on  the  Place  de  la  Concorde, 
blocking  up  the  Cours-Ia-Reine,  cuckoos  so  flourish- 
ing for  an  age,  still  so  numerous  in  1830,  no  longer 
exist ;  and,  on  account  of  the  more  attractive  rural 
solemnity,  scarcely  do  we  see  one  on  the  road  in 
1842. 

In  1820  the  places  noted  for  their  sites,  and 
called  environs  of  Paris,  did  not  all  have  a  regular 
carrier  service.  Yet  the  Touchards,  father  and  son, 
had  acquired  a  monopoly  of  transportation  to  and 
from  the  more  populous  towns  within  a  radius  of 
fifteen  leagues;    and  their  venture  had  built  up  a 

(5) 


6  A  START  IN  LIFE 

magnificent  establishment  situated  in  the  Rue  du 
Faubourg  Saint-Denis.  Despite  their  long  standing, 
despite  their  efforts,  their  capital  and  all  the  ad- 
vantages of  a  powerful  centralization,  the  Touchard 
conveyances  found  in  the  cuckoos  of  the  Faubourg 
Saint-Denis  formidable  competitors  for  points  situ- 
ated seven  or  eight  leagues  round  about.  Such  is 
the  Parisian's  fondness  for  the  country  that  local 
ventures  also  competed  advantageously  with  the 
Petites-Messageries,  the  name  given  to  the  Tou- 
chard venture  in  opposition  to  that  of  the  Grandes- 
Messageries  of  the  Rue  Montmartre.  At  that  period 
the  Touchards'  success  stimulated  speculators.  For 
the  smallest  localities  in  the  neighborhood  of  Paris 
there  then  arose  ventures  of  fine,  rapid  and  commo- 
dious coaches,  leaving  Paris  and  returning  to  it  at 
stated  times,  which  in  all  directions  within  a 
radius  of  ten  leagues  produced  keen  competition. 
Broken  down  in  a  trip  of  from  four  to  six  leagues, 
the  cuckoo  fell  back  on  short  distances,  and  sur- 
vived yet  a  few  years  longer.  At  last  it  succumbed 
as  soon  as  the  omnibus  had  demonstrated  the  possi- 
bility of  making  one  coach  drawn  by  two  horses 
hold  eighteen  persons.  To-day  the  cuckoo,  if,  per- 
chance, one  of  these  birds  of  such  difficult  flight  is 
still  to  be  found  in  some  coach-ripper's  shop,  would, 
on  account  of  its  structure  and  arrangement,  be  an 
object  of  learned  research,  comparable  to  that  of 
Cuvier  on  the  animals  found  in  the  plaster-quarries 
of  Montmartre.  The  small  ventures,  menaced  by 
the  speculators  who  strove  since   1822  against  the 


A  START  IN   LIFE  7 

Touchards,  father  and  son,  ordinarily  enlisted  in 
their  support  the  sympathies  of  those  inhabiting  the 
places  which  they  served.  Thus  the  venturer,  at 
the  same  time  conductor  and  owner  of  the  coach, 
was  an  innkeeper  in  the  locality  and  was  familiar 
with  its  beings,  things  and  interests.  He  attended 
to  errands  intelligently,  he  did  not  ask  very  much 
for  his  small  services,  and  on  that  very  account  got 
more  than  the  Messageries  Touchard.  He  knew 
how  to  elude  the  necessity  of  a  transportation  per- 
mit If  need  be,  he  infringed  on  the  ordinances 
regarding  the  passengers  to  be  carried.  In  fine,  he 
had  won  the  affection  of  the  ordinary  folk.  And 
so,  when  competition  was  set  up,  if  the  old  carrier 
of  the  country  shared  the  week-days  with  it,  some 
persons  delayed  their  journey  so  as  to  make  it  in 
company  with  the  antique  coach-driver,  though  his 
rig  and  horses  were  in  a  condition  that  was  by  no 
means  likely  to  inspire  confidence. 

One  of  the  lines  that  the  Touchards  tried  to 
monopolize,  which  was  the  one  most  disputed  with 
them,  and  which  is  still  disputed  with  the  Toulouses, 
their  successors,  is  that  from  Paris  to  Beaumont- 
sur-Oise,  an  astonishingly  productive  line,  for  three 
ventures  worked  it  concurrently  in  1822.  In  vain 
did  the  Petites-Messageries  lower  their  prices,  in 
vain  did  they  increase  the  frequency  of  their  de- 
parture, in  vain  did  they  build  fine  coaches,  compe- 
tition continued;  so  productive  is  a  line  on  which 
are  situated  small  towns  like  Saint-Denis  and  Saint- 
Brice,    villages   like   Pierrefitte,    Groslay,    Ecouen, 


8  A  START  IN  LIFE 

Poncelles,  Moisselles,  Baillet,  Monsoult,  Maffliers, 
Franconville,  Presles,  Nointel,  Nerville,  etc.  The 
Touchard  conveyances  at  last  extended  the  journey 
from  Paris  to  Chambly.  Competition  went  all  the 
way  to  Chambly.  Now,  the  Toulouses  go  as  far  as 
Beauvais. 

On  this  route,  that  to  England,  there  is  a  road 
that  leads  to  a  place  quite  properly  called  La  Cave, 
in  view  of  its  topography,  and  that  goes  through 
one  of  the  most  delightful  valleys  of  the  Oise  basin, 
to  the  little  town  of  L'Isle-Adam,  doubly  famous, 
both  as  the  cradle  of  the  extinct  house  of  L'Isle- 
Adam  and  as  the  former  residence  of  the  Bourbon- 
Contis.  L'Isle-Adam  is  a  charming  little  town 
flanked  by  two  large  villages,  that  of  Nogent  and 
that  of  Parmain,  both  remarkable  for  splendid  quar- 
ries that  furnished  the  materials  for  the  finest  edi- 
fices of  modern  Paris  and  some  abroad,  for  the  base 
and  ornaments  of  the  columns  of  the  Brussels  thea- 
tre are  of  Nogent  stone.  Though  remarkable  for 
admirable  sites,  for  famous  chiteaus  built  by 
princes,  monks  or  celebrated  designers,  like  Cassan, 
Stors,  Le  Val,  Nointel,  Persan,  etc.,  in  1822  this 
country  escaped  competition  and  was  served  by  two 
coach-drivers,  who  agreed  to  turn  it  to  account. 
This  exception  was  based  on  reasons  easily  ac- 
counted for.  From  La  Cave,  the  point  at  which 
begins,  on  the  road  to  England,  the  paved  way  due 
to  the  magnificence  of  the  Conti  princes,  to  L'Isle- 
Adam  the  distance  Is  two  leagues;  no  venture  could 
make  so  considerable  a  detour,  so  much  the  more  as 


A  START   IN   LIFE  9 

L'lsle-Adam  was  then  the  end  of  a  blind  alley. 
The  road  that  led  to  it  ended  there.  For  some  years 
past  a  highway  has  connected  the  Montmorency 
valley  with  the  valley  of  L'lsle-Adam.  From 
Saint-Denis  it  passes  by  Saint-Leu-Taverny,  Meru, 
L'lsle-Adam,  and  goes  as  far  as  Beaumont,  along 
the  Oise.  But  in  1822  the  only  road  that  led  to 
L'lsle-Adam  was  that  of  the  Conti  princes.  Pier- 
rotin  and  his  colleague  reigned,  then,  from  Paris  to 
L'lsle-Adam,  loved  by  the  entire  country.  The 
Pierrotin  coach  and  that  of  his  comrade  served 
Stors,  Le  Val,  Parmain,  Champagne,  Mours,  Pre- 
rolles,  Nogent,  Nerville,  and  Maffliers.  Pierrotin 
was  so  well  known  that  the  inhabitants  of  Monsoult, 
Moisselles,  Baillet  and  Saint-Brice,  though  situated 
on  the  high  road,  made  use  of  his  coach,  in  which 
there  was  oftener  a  chance  of  getting  a  seat  than  in 
the  Beaumont  stages,  which  were  always  full. 
Pierrotin  fixed  it  all  right  with  his  competitor. 
When  Pierrotin  was  leaving  L'lsle-Adam  his  com- 
rade was  returning  from  Paris,  and  vice  versa.  It  is 
needless  to  speak  of  competitor,  for  Pierrotin  had 
the  sympathy  of  the  country.  Of  the  two  convey- 
ance men,  he,  moreover,  is  the  only  one  in  evidence 
in  this  veracious  history.  Let  it,  then,  suffice  for 
you  to  know  that  the  two  coach-drivers  lived  on 
good  terms,  making  a  friendly  war  on  each  other 
and  disputing  pleasantly  for  the  inhabitants.  For 
economy's  sake  they  used  at  Paris  the  same  yard, 
the  same  hotel,  the  same  stable,  the  same  coach- 
shed,  the  same  office,  the  same  clerk.     From  these 


lO  A  START  IN  LIFE 

details  it  is  plain  enough  that  Pierrotin  and  his  ad- 
versary were,  as  people  say,  pretty  good  fellows. 
This  hotel,  situated  just  at  the  angle  of  the  Rue 
d'Enghien,  is  still  there,  and  is  called  the  Lion 
d' Argent.  The  owner  of  this  establishment,  in- 
tended from  time  immemorial  to  lodge  carriers,  ran 
a  coach  venture  of  his  own  to  Dammartin  that  was 
so  well  established  that  the  Touchards,  its  neigh- 
bors, whose  Petites-Messageries  are  opposite,  did 
not  think  of  running  a  coach  on  this  line. 

Though  the  departures  for  L' Isle- Adam  were  to 
take  place  at  a  fixed  time,  Pierrotin  and  his  co-car- 
rier in  this  respect  practised  an  indulgence  that,  if 
it  won  them  the  affection  of  the  people  of  the  coun- 
try, stirred  up  strong  remonstrances  against  them 
on  the  part  of  strangers,  accustomed  to  the  regular- 
ity of  the  great  public  establishments;  but  the  two 
conductors  of  this  coach,  half  stage  and  half  cuckoo, 
always  found  defenders  among  their  regular  cus- 
tomers. In  the  afternoon  the  four  o'clock  start  was 
delayed  until  half-past  four,  and  that  of  the  morning, 
though  set  down  for  eight  o'clock,  never  took  place 
before  nine.  This  system,  moreover,  was  ex- 
tremely elastic.  In  summer,  the  golden  season  for 
carriers,  the  law  as  to  starts,  strict  in  regard  to  the 
unknown,  was  modified  only  in  the  case  of  people 
of  the  country.  This  method  made  it  possible  for 
Pierrotin  to  pocket  the  price  of  two  seats  for  one, 
when  an  inhabitant  of  the  country  came  early  to 
ask  for  a  seat  belonging  to  a  bird  of  passage  who, 
unfortunately,  was  late.     This  elasticity,  no  doubt, 


A  START  IN  LIFE  II 

would  not  find  favor  in  the  eyes  of  purists  in  mor- 
ality; butPierrotin  and  his  colleague  justified  it  by 
the  hard  times,  by  their  losses  during  the  winter 
season,  by  the  necessity  of  having  to  get  better 
coaches  soon,  and,  in  fine,  by  the  exact  observance 
of  the  law  written  on  bulletins,  copies  of  which, 
extremely  rare  as  they  were,  were  given  only  to 
transient  passengers  obstinate  enough  to  demand 
them. 

Pierrotin,  a  man  forty  years  old,  was  already  the 
father  of  a  family.  Having  left  the  cavalry  at  the 
time  of  the  disbandment  of  1815,  this  brave  youth 
had  succeeded  his  father,  who  drove,  from  LMsle- 
Adamto  Paris,  a  cuckoo  of  rather  capricious  appear- 
ance. After  having  married  the  daughter  of  a 
small  innkeeper,  he  extended  the  L'Isle-Adam  ser- 
vice, made  it  regular,  and  made  himself  be  noticed 
for  his  intelligence  and  military  exactness.  Active 
and  firm,  Pierrotin — which  must  have  been  a  cog- 
nomen,— by  the  mobility  of  his  countenance,  im- 
pressed on  his  red,  weather-beaten  face  a  sly 
expression  resembling  that  of  a  wit.  Nor,  more- 
over, was  he  wanting  in  that  ease  of  talking  that  is 
acquired  by  force  of  seeing  the  world  and  various 
countries.  His  voice,  from  the  habit  of  addressing 
horses  and  crying  "Look  out,"  had  become  harsh; 
but  he  assumed  a  mild  tone  with  the  townsfolk. 
His  costume,  like  that  of  carriers  of  the  second 
order,  consisted  of  good  solid  boots,  heavy  with 
nails,  made  at  L'Isle-Adam,  and  trousers  of  coarse 
bottle-green  velvet,  and  a  waistcoat  of  like  material. 


12  A  START  IN  LIFE 

but  over  which,  while  he  was  engaged  at  his 
work,  he  wore  a  blue  blouse,  the  collar,  shoulders 
and  wristbands  of  which  were  adorned  with  many- 
colored  embroidery.  A  peaked  cap  covered  his 
head.  Military  life  had  left  in  Pierrotin's  manners 
great  respect  for  social  superiority  and  the  habit  of 
obsequiousness  to  people  of  the  higher  classes;  but 
if  he  easily  made  familiar  with  the  lower  middle- 
class  folk,  he  always  respected  women,  no  matter 
to  what  social  rank  they  belonged.  Nevertheless, 
from  the  habit  of  ** trundling  everybody,"  to  use  one 
of  his  own  expressions,  he  came  at  last  to  regard  his 
passengers  as  walking  packages,  and  as  from  that 
time  requiring  less  care  than  others,  the  essential 
object  of  the  carrying  service. 

Warned  by  the  general  movement  that  was  revo- 
lutionizing his  trade  since  peace  had  been  restored, 
Pierrotin  did  not  want  to  let  himself  be  overwhelmed 
by  the  march  of  intelligence.  And  so,  as  soon  as 
the  fine  season  set  in,  he  spoke  a  great  deal  of  a 
certain  large  coach  ordered  from  Farry,  Breilmann 
&  Co.,  the  best  of  stage-coach  builders,  and  made 
necessary  by  the  growing  affluence  of  passengers. 
Pierrotin's  stock  then  consisted  of  two  coaches. 
The  one,  which  served  in  winter  and  the  only  one 
that  he  showed  to  the  tax-gatherers,  came  down  to 
him  from  his  father  and  smacked  of  the  cuckoo. 
The  rounded  sides  of  this  coach  allowed  six  travel- 
ers to  be  placed  in  it  on  two  benches  that  were  as 
hard  as  metal,  though  covered  with  yellow  Utrecht 
velvet.     These  two  benches  were  separated  by  a 


A  START  IN   LIFE  l'3 

wooden  bar  that  could  be  taken  out  and  replaced  at 
will  in  two  grooves  sunk  in  each  interior  wall,  just 
high  enough  to  meet  the  back.  This  bar,  perfid- 
iously enveloped  in  velvet  and  which  Pierrotin 
called  a  back-rest,  was  the  bugbear  of  travelers  on 
account  of  the  difficulty  that  one  experienced  in  re- 
moving and  replacing  it.  If  this  back-rest  was  hard 
to  handle,  it  was  still  more  uncomfortable  to  the 
shoulder-blades  when  it  was  in  place;  but  when  it 
was  left  across  the  coach,  it  made  entrance  and  exit 
equally  dangerous,  especially  to  women.  Though 
each  bench  of  this  cab,  with  its  flank  curved  like 
that  of  a  pregnant  woman,  was  not  supposed  to  hold 
more  than  three  passengers,  yet  eight  were  often 
seen  there  pressed  as  close  together  as  herrings  in 
a  barrel.  Pierrotin  pretended  that  the  passengers 
were  the  better  off  on  this  account,  for  they  then 
formed  a  compact,  immovable  mass;  while  three 
travelers  were  perpetually  bumping  against  one 
another  and  often  ran  the  risk  of  spoiling  their  hats 
against  the  head  of  his  cab,  by  reason  of  the  violent 
joltings  of  the  road.  On  the  front  of  this  coach 
there  was  a  wooden  bench,  Pierrotin's  seat,  which 
could  hold  three  passengers,  who  when  perched 
there,  as  everybody  knows,  take  the  name  of  rab- 
bits. On  certain  trips  Pierrotin  placed  four  rabbits 
there,  and  then  sat  himself  to  one  side  on  a  sort  of 
box  formed  at  the  bottom  of  the  body  to  supply  a 
rest  for  his  rabbits'  feet,  and  always  full  of  straw 
or  packages  that  nothing  could  injure.  The  body  of 
this  cuckoo,  painted  yellow,  was  embellished  in  its 


14  A  START  IN  LIFE 

Upper  part  with  a  band  of  wigmaker's  blue  on  which 
were  read  in  silver-white  letters  on  the  sides :  V Isle- 
Adam— Paris,  and  behind:  U Isle- Adam  Service.  It 
would  be  erroneous  for  our  nephews  to  think  of  be- 
lieving that  this  coach  could  convey  only  thirteen 
persons,  Pierrotin  included;  on  great  occasions  it 
sometimes  admitted  three  more  in  a  square  compart- 
ment covered  with  a  tilt  in  which  were  piled  trunks, 
boxes  and  packages;  but  the  prudent  Pierrotin  did 
not  let  anyone  mount  there  except  his  regulars,  and 
only  three  or  four  hundred  paces  from  the  barrier. 
These  inhabitants  of  the  hen-roost,  a  name  given 
by  drivers  to  this  part  of  the  coach,  had  to  get  down 
before  reaching  each  village  along  the  road  at  which 
there  was  a  gendarme  station.  The  overloading 
prohibited  by  the  ordinances  concerning  the  safety 
of  passengers  would  then  be  too  flagrant  for  the  gen- 
darme, essentially  Pierrotin's  friend,  to  be  able  to 
omit  reporting  this  violation.  Thus  Pierrotin's  cab 
carried,  on  certain  Saturday  afternoons  or  Monday 
mornings,  fifteen  passengers;  but  then  to  haul  it  he 
gave  his  big  superannuated  horse  called  Rougeot,  a 
companion,  in  the  shape  of  a  horse  as  big  as  a  pony, 
to  which  he  gave  unstinted  praise.  This  little  ani- 
mal was  a  mare  called  Bichette;  she  ate  little,  she 
was  fiery,  she  was  indefatigable,  she  was  worth  her 
weight  in  gold. 

"My  wife  would  not  give  her  for  this  big  lazy- 
bones, Rougeot!"  exclaimed  Pierrotin  when  a  pas- 
senger would  tease  him  about  this  extract  of  horse. 

The  difference  between  the  other  coach  and  this 


A  START  IN  LIFE  15 

one  consisted  in  tiie  second  being  mounted  on  four 
wheels.  This  coach,  of  odd  build,  called  the  four- 
wheeled  coach,  admitted  seventeen  passengers,  and 
was  allowed  only  fourteen.  It  made  so  loud  a  noise 
that  at  L'Isle-Adam  people  often  said: 

"There  goes  Pierrotin!"  as  soon  as  he  emerged 
from  the  forest  that  stretches  along  the  sides  of  the 
valley.  It  was  divided  into  two  lobes,  the  first  of 
which,  called  the  interior,  contained  six  passengers 
on  two  benches,  and  the  second,  a  sort  of  cab  at- 
tached in  front,  was  called  a  coupe.  This  coupe 
was  enclosed  with  inconvenient  and  whimsical 
glazing  that  it  would  take  too  much  space  to  describe 
for  it  to  be  possible  to  speak  of  it  here.  The  four- 
wheeled  coach  was  provided  with  an  upper  deck 
having  a  canopy  under  which  Pierrotin  squeezed  in 
six  passengers  and  which  was  enclosed  with  leather 
curtains.  Pierrotin  sat  on  an  almost  invisible  seat 
arranged  below  the  glass  of  the  coupe. 

The  L'Isle-Adam  carrier  did  not  pay  the  tax  im- 
posed on  public  coaches  except  on  his  cuckoo  repre- 
sented as  holding  six  passengers,  and  he  took  out  a 
permit  every  time  that  he  made  a  trip  with  his  four- 
wheeled  coach.  This  may  seem  extraordinary 
nowadays;  but  in  its  beginnings  the  tax  on  coaches, 
imposed  in  a  sort  of  timid  way,  allowed  carriers 
those  small  deceits  that  made  them  quite  content  to 
stand  in  with  the  employees,  as  an  expression  of 
their  vocabulary  has  it.  Gradually  the  exhausted 
treasury  became  strict,  it  forced  the  coaches  to  stop 
running  unless  they  bore  the  double  stamp  which 


l6  A  START  IN  LIFE 

now  announces  that  they  are  gauged  and  that  the 
taxes  on  them  have  been  paid.  Everything  has  its 
period  of  innocence,  even  the  treasury;  toward  the 
close  of  1822  that  period  still  lasted.  Often  in 
summer-time  the  four-wheeled  coach  and  the  cab 
made  the  trip  in  concert,  carrying  thirty-two  pas- 
sengers, and  Pierrotin  paid  the  toll  only  on  six.  In 
those  good  times  the  conveyance  that  left  the  Fou- 
bourg  Saint-Denis  at  half-past  four  proudly  reached 
L'Isle-Adam  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening.  And  so, 
boasting  of  his  service,  which  called  for  an  extraor- 
dinary hiring  of  horses,  Pierrotin  said:  "We  have 
got  along  nicely !"  To  be  able  to  make  nine  leagues 
in  five  hours  with  this  equipage,  he  omitted  the 
stops  that  carriers  make  on  this  route  at  Saint- 
Brice,  Moisselles  and  La  Cave. 

The  Lion  d' Argent  hotel  occupies  a  very  deep  lot. 
If  its  front  has  only  three  or  four  windows  on  the 
Faubourg  Saint-Denis,  it  then  allowed  in  its  long 
court,  at  the  end  of  which  are  the  stables,  a  whole 
house  built  up  against  the  wall  of  a  middle  property. 
The  entrance  formed,  as  it  were,  a  passage,  under 
the  roof  of  which  two  or  three  carriages  could  stand. 
In  1822,  an  office  for  all  the  conveyances  putting-up 
at  the  Lion  d' Argent  was  kept  by  the  innkeeper's 
wife,  who  had  as  many  books  as  there  were  ser- 
vices ;  she  took  the  money,  wrote  down  the  names, 
and  kindly  stored  the  packages  in  the  immense 
kitchen  of  her  inn.  The  passengers  were  satisfied 
with  this  patriarchal  go-as-you-please.  If  they  ar- 
rived too  soon,  they  sat  under  the  mantel  of  the 


A  START  IN  LIFE  1 7 

spacious  fireplace,  or  stood  under  the  porch,  or  be- 
took themselves  to  the  Exchequer  cafe,  which  is  at 
the  corner  of  a  street  so  named,  and  parallel  to  the 
Rue  d'Enghien,  from  which  it  is  separated  only  by  a 
few  houses. 

In  the  early  days  of  the  autumn  of  that  year,  on 
a  Saturday  morning,  Pierrotin,  with  his  hand  thrust 
through  the  holes  of  his  blouse  into  his  pockets,  was 
standing  in  the  gateway  of  the  Lion  d' Argent, 
whence  are  in  view  one  after  the  other  the  kitchen 
of  the  inn  and,  beyond,  the  long  court,  at  the  end 
of  which  the  stables  are  outlined  in  black.  The 
Dammartin  stage  had  just  left  and  was  lazily  glid- 
ing after  the  Touchard  stages.  It  was  after  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  Under  the  enormous  porch, 
above  which  one  reads  on  a  long  sign-board :  Hotel 
du  Lion  d'Arge7it,  the  stable-boys  and  the  porters 
were  looking  at  the  coaches  performing  that  launch 
which  so  deceives  the  passenger,  making  him  be- 
lieve that  the  horses  will  always  go  so. 

"Is  it  time  to  harness  up,  citizen?"  said  his 
stable-boy  to  Pierrotin  when  at  last  there  was  noth- 
ing to  be  seen. 

"It  is  a  quarter-past  eight,  and  1  see  no  passen- 
gers," Pierrotin  replied.  "Where,  then,  are  they 
burying  themselves?  Hook  up  all  the  same.  And 
with  all  that,  no  packages.  Good  heavens!  He 
will  not  know  where  to  put  his  passengers  this 
evening,  how  fine  he  is  doing,  and  as  for  me,  I  have 
only  four  enrolled!  That's  a  pretty  how-do-you-do 
for  a  Saturday !     It  is  always  like  that  when  you 


l8  A  START  IN  LIFE 

want  money !  What  a  dog's  trade !  What  a  dog  of 
a  trade!" 

"And  if  you  had  them,  where,  then,  would  you 
put  them?  You  have  only  your  cab!"  said  the 
hostler,  trying  to  calm  Pierrotin. 

"And  my  new  coach,  then!"  Pierrotin  rejoined. 

"There  is  such  a  thing  then?"  asked  the  stout 
Auvergnat,  who  as  he  smiled  showed  two  incisors 
as  large  as  almonds. 

"You  old  good-for-nothing!  It  will  roll  to-mor- 
row, Sunday,  and  we  must  have  eighteen  passen- 
gers!" 

"Ah!  bless  me,  a  fine  coach,  it  will  warm  the 
road,"  said  the  Auvergnat. 

"A  coach  like  the  one  that  goes  to  Beaumont, 
what!  so  flaming!  it  is  painted  red  and  gold  so  as 
to  fill  the  Touchards  with  spite!  I  will  need  three 
horses.  I've  found  a  mate  for  Rougeot,  and  Bichette 
will  go  headlong  as  if  shot  from  a  bow.  Come, 
look  out,  hitch  up!"  said  Pierrotin,  who  was 
looking  in  the  direction  of  the  Saint-Denis  gate 
as  he  crammed  some  tobacco  into  his  short 
pipe;  "I  see  down  there  a  lady  and  a  small 
young  man  with  packages  under  their  arms;  they 
are  looking  for  the  Lion  d' Argent,  for  they  have 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  cuckoos.  Look,  hold  on!  I 
seem  to  recognize  the  lady  as  a  regular?" 

"You  have  often  arrived  full  after  having  started 
empty,"  his  agent  said  to  him. 

"But  no  packages,"  Pierrotin  replied.  "Good 
heavens!  what  luck!" 


A  START  IN  LIFE  I9 

And  Pierrotin  sat  down  on  one  of  the  two  enor- 
mous ledges  that  protected  the  base  of  the  walls 
against  shock  from  axle-trees;  but  he  sat  with  a 
restless  and  dreamy  air  that  was  not  habitual  to 
him.  That  conversation,  apparently  insignificant, 
had  stirred  up  cruel  cares  concealed  at  the  bottom 
of  Pierrotin's  heart.  And  what  could  trouble  Pier- 
rotin's  heart  if  it  was  not  a  fme  coach?  To  shine 
on  the  road,  to  contend  against  the  Touchards,  to 
enlarge  his  service,  to  carry  passengers  who  would 
compliment  him  on  the  conveniences  due  to  the 
progress  made  in  carriage-building,  instead  of  hav- 
ing to  listen  to  everlasting  reproaches  about  his 
drags,  such  was  Pierrotin's  laudable  ambition. 
Now,  the  L'lsle-Adam  carrier,  urged  by  his  desire 
to  get  the  better  of  his  comrade,  to  induce  him  some 
day,  perhaps,  to  leave  to  him  alone  the  L'IsIe-Adam 
service,  had  exceeded  his  strength.  He  had  indeed 
ordered  the  coach  from  Farry,  Breilmann  &  Co.,  the 
carriage-builders  who  had  just  substituted  the  square 
English  spring  for  the  swan-necks  and  other  old 
French  inventions;  but  these  distrustful  and  close 
manufacturers  would  deliver  this  stage-coach  only 
for  spot  cash.  Far  from  being  flattered  at  building 
a  coach  that  it  would  be  hard  to  dispose  of  if  thrown 
on  their  hands,  these  prudent  merchants  undertook 
it  only  after  receiving  a  deposit  of  two  thousand 
francs  from  Pierrotin.  To  satisfy  the  just  demand 
of  the  carriage-builders  the  ambitious  carrier  had 
exhausted  all  his  resources  and  his  entire  credit 
His   wife,  his   father-in-law   and   his   friends   had 


20  A  START  IN  LIFE 

allowed  him  to  bleed  them.  This  superb  stage- 
coach he  had  gone  to  see  the  evening  before  at  the 
painter's,  it  now  needed  only  to  be  set  on  wheels; 
but,  to  make  it  go  to-morrow,  he  must  pay  for  it  in 
full. 

Now,  Pierrotin  needed  a  thousand  francs!  In 
debt  to  the  innkeeper  for  rent,  he  dared  not  ask  him 
for  this  sum.  By  not  having  the  thousand  francs, 
he  was  in  danger  of  losing  the  two  thousand  paid  in 
advance,  not  to  mention  five  hundred  francs,  the 
price  of  the  new  Rougeot,  and  three  hundred  francs 
for  new  harness  on  which  he  had  got  three  months 
credit.  And  impelled  by  the  rage  of  despair  and  by 
the  folly  of  pride,  he  had  just  asserted  that  his  new 
coach  would  spin  to-morrow,  Sunday.  By  giving 
fifteen  hundred  francs  on  two  thousand  five  hundred, 
he  hoped  that  the  mollified  carriage-builders  would 
deliver  the  coach  to  him;  but  he  cried  out  aloud, 
after  meditating  for  three  minutes: 

"No,  they  are  dogs  to  the  end!  genuine  screws. 
If  I  applied  to  Monsieur  Moreau,  the  manager  of 
Presles,  for  he  is  such  a  good  man,"  he  said  to 
himself  as  a  new  idea  struck  him,  "he  would  per- 
haps take  my  note  for  six  months." 

At  that  moment  an  unliveried  valet,  loaded  with 
a  leather  trunk,  and  coming  from  the  Touchard  es- 
tablishment where  he  had  not  found  a  seat  for  the 
start  for  Chambly  at  one  o'clock  p.  m.,  said  to  the 
carrier: 

"Are  you  Pierrotin?" 

"What  then.?"  said  Pierrotin. 


A  START  IN  LIFE  21 

**If  you  can  wait  a  short  quarter  of  an  hour,  you 
will  carry  my  master;  if  not,  I  take  his  trunk  back, 
and  he  will  get  square  by  taking  a  hackney  cab." 

"I'll  wait  two,  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  and  to 
boot,  my  boy,"  said  Pierrotin  as  he  squinted  at  the 
pretty  little  leather  trunk  well  strapped  and  fast- 
ened with  a  copper  lock  bearing  a  coat-of-arms. 

"Well,  there  it  is,"  said  the  valet  as  he  unloaded 
the  trunk  from  his  shoulder,  and  Pierrotin  took  it 
up,  guessed  its  weight  and  looked  at  it 

"Look  here,"  said  the  carrier  to  his  agent,  "wrap 
it  up  in  soft  hay,  and  place  it  in  the  back  boot 
There's  no  name  on  it,"  he  added. 

"There  are  His  Lordship's  arms,"  the  valet 
replied. 

"His  Lordship?  More  than  that  in  gold!  Come, 
then,  and  have  a  nip,"  said  Pierrotin  as  he  winked 
and  went  toward  the  Exchequer  cafe,  to  which  he 
led  the  valet  "Young  man,  two  absinthes!"  he 
shouted  as  he  entered.  "Who  is  your  master,  then, 
and  where  is  he  going  to?  I  have  never  seen  you," 
Pierrotin  asked  of  the  domestic  as  he  touched 
glasses. 

"There  are  good  reasons  for  that,"  the  footman 
rejoined.  "My  master  doesn't  go  your  way  once  a 
year,  and  he  always  goes  there  in  a  carriage.  He 
prefers  the  Orge  valley,  where  he  has  the  finest 
park  in  the  neighborhood  of  Paris,  a  real  Versailles, 
a  family  estate,  and  he  bears  its  name.  Don't  you 
know  Monsieur  Moreau?" 

"The  manager  of  Presles,"  said  Pierrotin. 


22  A  START  IN  LIFE 

"Well,  the  comte  is  going  to  spend  two  days  at 
Presles." 

"Ah!  I'm  going  to  carry  the  Comte  de  Serizy?" 
the  carrier  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  my  boy,  nothing  but  that.  But  listen! 
There's  a  watchword.  If  you  have  people  of  the 
country  in  your  coach,  do  not  mention  the  comte's 
name,  he  wants  to  travel  incognito,  and  has  asked 
me  to  tell  you  so,  promising  you  a  good  fee." 

"Ah!  can  this  stealthy  journey  perchance  have 
anything  to  do  with  the  affair  that  old  Leger,  the 
Moulineaux  farmer,  has  come  to  close  up.?" 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  the  valet;  "but  there's 
something  in  the  wind.  Last  evening  I  went  to 
give  orders  at  the  stable  to  have  the  Daumont 
coach  ready,  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  to  go 
to  Presles.  But  at  seven  o'clock  His  Lordship  coun- 
termanded the  order.  Augustin,  the  valet  de  cham- 
bre,  attributes  this  change  to  the  visit  of  a  lady  who 
appeared  to  him  as  if  she  had  come  from  the  coun- 
try." 

"Could  anyone  have  said  anything  in  regard 
to  Monsieur  Moreau  ?  the  best  of  men,  the  most 
honest  of  men,  the  king  of  men,  what!  He  might 
have  made  a  great  deal  more  money  than  he  has,  if 
he  had  wanted  to,  come! — " 

"He  was  wrong,  then,"  the  valet  rejoined  sen- 
tentiously. 

"Monsieur  de  Serizy  is  at  last,  then,  going  to  live 
at  Presles,  as  the  chateau  has  been  furnished  and 
repaired?"    Pierrotin  asked  after  a  pause.     "Is  it 


A  START  IN  LIFE  23 

true  that  two  hundred  thousand  francs  have  already 
been  spent  on  it?" 

"If  we,  if  you  or  I  had  what  has  been  spent  over 
and  above  that,  we  would  be  of  the  middle-class. 
If  the  comtesse  is  going  there,  ah!  bless  me!  the 
Moreaus  will  no  longer  have  their  privileges,"  the 
valet  said  with  a  mysterious  air. 

"Fine  man,  is  Monsieur  Moreau!"  continued 
Pierrotin,  who  was  ever  thinking  of  asking  his 
thousand  francs  of  the  manager,  "a  man  who  gives 
work,  who  does  not  bargain  too  much  for  work, 
and  who  takes  all  out  of  the  land  that's  in  it,  and 
ever  for  his  master !  Fine  man !  he  often  comes  to 
Paris,  he  always  takes  my  coach,  he  gives  me  a 
good  fee,  and  he  always  has  a  load  of  errands  for 
you  in  Paris.  It's  three  or  four  packages  a  day,  as 
well  for  the  gentleman  as  for  the  lady;  in  fme,  a 
bill  of  fifty  francs  for  me,  for  nothing  but  errands. 
If  the  lady  is  slightly  inclined  to  think  she's  some- 
body, she  dearly  loves  her  children,  it  is  I  who  go 
to  take  them  from  college  and  who  take  them  back 
to  it  Every  time  she  gives  me  a  hundred  sous,  a 
grand  nabob  wouldn't  do  better.  Oh!  every  time 
that  1  have  anyone  from  or  to  their  house,  I  push 
right  up  to  the  castle  gate — That's  only  fair,  isn't 
it?" 

"People  say  that  Monsieur  Moreau  wasn't  worth 
a  thousand  crowns  when  the  comte  made  him  man- 
ager at  Presles?"  said  the  valet. 

"But  since  1806,  in  seventeen  years,  this  man 
should  have  m.-'.^j  something!"  Pierrotin  replied. 


24  A   START  IN   LIFE 

"True,  said  the  valet  as  he  tossed  his  head. 
"After  that,  masters  are  rather  ridiculous,  and  I  hope 
forMoreau's  sake  that  he  has  buttered  his  bread." 

"I  have  often  gone  to  bring  you  baskets  of 
game,"  said  Pierrotin,  "to  your  mansion  in  the  Rue 
de  la  Chaussee-d'Antin,  and  I  never  had  the  luck  to 
see  either  the  gentleman  or  the  lady." 

"The  comte  is  a  good  man,"  the  valet  said  con- 
fidentially; "but  if  he  depends  on  your  discretion 
to  make  sure  of  his  cognito,  there's  some  squabbling 
ahead;  at  least  that's  what  we  think  at  the  man- 
sion; else  why  countermand  the  Daumont?  why 
travel  in  a  cuckoo.?  Has  not  a  peer  of  France  the 
means  to  take  a  livery  cab?" 

"A  cab  may  cost  him  forty  francs  to  go  and  re- 
turn; for  I  must  tell  you  that  that  road,  if  you  do 
not  know  it,  was  made  for  squirrels.  Oh!  con- 
stantly getting  off  and  on,"  said  Pierrotin.  "Peer 
of  France  or  middle-class  man,  everybody  is  re- 
garded according  to  his  liberality!  If  this  jour- 
ney concerned  Monsieur  Moreau — Good  heavens! 
wouldn't  I  be  sorry  if  any  misfortune  befell  him! 
Good  heavens  as  often  as  you  please!  couldn't 
people  find  a  way  to  prevent  it.?  for  he  is  a  really 
fine  man,  a  fine  man  out  and  out,  the  king  of  men, 
what!—" 

"Bah!  the  comte  is  very  fond  of  him,  of  Mon- 
sieur Moreau!"  said  the  valet  "But  hold,  if  you 
will  let  me  give  you  some  good  advice:  every  one 
for  himself.  We  have  quite  enough  to  do  to  mind 
our  own  business.     Do  what  people  ask  you  to  do, 


A  START  IN  LIFE  25 

and  so  much  the  more  as  His  Lordship  is  not  to  be 
fooled.  Then,  to  say  it  all,  the  comte  is  generous. 
If  you  oblige  him  thus  far,"  said  the  valet  as  he 
showed  the  nail  of  one  of  his  fingers,  "he  will  pay 
you  back  with  something  as  big  as  that,"  he  con- 
tinued stretching  out  his  arm. 

This  judicious  reflection,  and  especially  the  rep- 
resentation, had  as  their  effect,  from  a  man  so 
highly  stationed  as  the  Comte  de  Serizy's  second 
valet  de  chambre,  the  cooling  of  Pierrotin's  zeal  for 
the  manager  of  the  Presles  estate. 

"Well,  adieu.  Monsieur  Pierrotin,"  said  the  valet. 

A  rapid  survey  of  the  Comte  de  Serizy's  life  and 
of  that  of  his  manager  is  necessary  here  in  order  to 
understand  clearly  the  little  drama  that  is  going  to 
take  place  in  the  Pierrotin  coach. 

Monsieur  Hugret  de  Serizy  was  descended  in  the 
direct  line  from  the  famous  President  Hugret,  en- 
nobled in  the  time  of  Francis  I. 

This  family  bears  per  pale  or  and  sable,  an  orle 
coiinterchanged  and  Iwo  lo:(enges  coiinierc hanged,  with: 
I,  SEMPER  MELIUS  ERIS,  a  device  which,  no  less 
than  the  two  dividers  taken  for  supports,  proves  the 
modesty  of  middle-class  families  at  the  time  when 
orders  kept  their  place  in  the  State,  and  the  sim- 
plicity of  our  ancient  manners  by  the  pun  on  eris, 
which,  combined  with  the  I  at  the  beginning  and 
the  final  s  of  melius,  represents  the  name — Serisjy — 
of  the  estate  created  an  earldom. 

The  comte's  father  was  first  president  of  a  par- 
liament before  the  Revolution.     As  regards  himself, 


26  A  START  IN  LIFE 

already  a  Councillor  of  State  in  the  Grand  Council, 
in  1787,  when  twenty-two  years  old,  he  attracted 
attention  there  by  very  excellent  reports  on  delicate 
matters.  He  did  not  emigrate  during  the  Revolu- 
tion, but  spent  that  time  on  his  Serizy  estate,  near 
Arpajon,  where  the  respect  that  was  had  for  his 
father  saved  him  from  all  misfortune.  After  having 
spent  some  years  in  taking  care  of  President  de 
Serizy,  whom  he  lost  in  1794,  he  was  elected  about 
that  time  to  the  Council  of  the  Five-Hundred,  and 
accepted  these  legislative  offices  as  a  distraction  from 
his  grief.  On  the  i8th  Brumaire  Monsieur  de 
Serizy  was,  like  all  the  old  parliamentary  families, 
an  object  of  coquetry  on  the  part  of  the  First  Con- 
sul, who  put  him  in  the  Council  of  State  and  gave 
him  one  of  the  most  disorganized  services  to  reform. 
The  scion  of  this  historic  family  became  one  of  the 
most  active  elements  in  the  grand  and  magnificent 
organization  that  was  due  to  Napoleon.  And  so  the 
Councillor  of  State  soon  left  his  administrative  office 
to  enter  the  Cabinet.  Made  count  and  senator  by 
the  Emperor,  he  became  in  succession  proconsul  of 
two  different  kingdoms.  In  1806,  at  the  age  of 
forty,  the  Senator  married  the  sister  of  the  former 
Marquis  deRonquerolles,  who  at  twenty  had  become 
the  widow  of  Gaubert,  one  of  the  most  famous  of 
the  republican  generals,  and  his  heiress.  This 
marriage,  suitable  as  to  nobility,  doubled  the  already 
considerable  fortune  of  the  Comte  de  Serizy,  who 
became  brother-in-law  to  the  former  Marquis  de 
Rouvre,  appointed  count  and  chamberlain  by  the 


A  START  IN  LIFE  27 

Emperor.  In  18 14,  worn  out  by  constant  work, 
Monsieur  de  Serizy,  whose  impaired  health  required 
rest,  resigned  all  his  offices,  left  the  government  at 
the  head  of  which  the  Emperor  had  placed  him,  and 
came  to  Paris,  where  Napoleon,  compelled  by  his 
knowledge  of  what  he  had  done,  did  him  justice. 
This  indefatigable  master,  who  did  not  believe  in 
fatigue  in  others,  at  first  regarded  that  as  desertion 
which  was  but  the  necessity  in  which  the  Comte 
de  Serizy  found  himself.  Though  the  senator 
was  not  in  disgrace,  yet  he  passed  for  having 
reason  to  complain  of  Napoleon.  And  so,  when  the 
Bourbons  returned,  Louis  XVIIl.,  whom  Monsieur  de 
Serizy  recognized  as  his  legitimate  sovereign, 
showed  his  great  confidence  in  the  senator,  who 
became  a  peer  of  France,  by  entrusting  him  with 
his  private  affairs,  and  naming  him  as  a  Minister  of 
State.  On  March  20,  Monsieur  de  Serizy  did  not 
go  to  Ghent, yet  notified  Napoleon  that  he  remained 
faithful  to  the  house  of  Bourbon;  he  did  not  accept 
the  peerage  during  the  Hundred-Days,  and  spent 
that  very  short  reign  on  his  Serizy  estate.  After 
the  Emperor's  second  fall,  he  naturally  became  once 
more  a  member  of  the  Privy  Council,  was  appointed 
vice-president  of  the  Council  of  State  and  was 
charged  to  liquidate,  on  the  part  of  France,  the  in- 
demnities demanded  by  the  foreign  powers.  With- 
out personal  display,  without  ambition  even,  he  had 
great  influence  in  public  affairs.  Nothing  important 
in  politics  was  done  without  his  being  consulted; 
but  he  never  went  to  Court   and   seldom  showed 


28  A  START  IN  LIFE 

himself  in  his  own  salons.  This  noble  life,  devoted 
in  the  first  place  to  work,  at  last  became  a  continual 
toil.  The  comte  arose  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing all  the  year  round,  worked  until  noon,  attended 
to  his  duties  as  peer  of  France  or  as  vice-president 
of  the  Council  of  State,  and  went  to  bed  at  nine. 
In  recognition  of  so  much  work,  the  king  made  him 
a  chevalier  of  his  orders.  Monsieur  de  Serizy  had 
long  worn  the  grand  cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor; 
he  belonged  to  the  order  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  the 
order  of  Saint  Andrew  of  Russia,  that  of  the  Eagle 
of  Prussia,  and,  in  fine,  to  nearly  all  the  orders  of 
the  European  courts.  No  one  was  less  noticed  nor 
more  useful  than  he  in  the  world  of  politics.  One 
understands  that  honors,  the  hubbub  of  favor, 
worldly  success,  were  indifferent  to  a  man  of  this 
mettle.  But  no  one,  priests  excepted,  reaches  such 
a  life  without  grave  reasons.  This  enigmatic  con- 
duct had  its  word,  a  cruel  word.  In  love  with  his 
wife  before  marrying  her,  in  the  comte  this  passion 
had  resisted  all  the  inner  misfortunes  of  his  mar- 
riage with  a  widow  who  was  ever  mistress  of  her- 
self before  as  well  as  after  her  second  union,  and 
who  so  much  the  more  enjoyed  her  liberty  as  Mon- 
sieur de  Serizy  gave  her  a  mother's  indulgence  for 
a  spoiled  child.  His  constant  labor  served  him  as 
a  shield  against  heart  sorrows  buried  with  that  care 
which  men  in  politics  know  how  to  take  in  regard 
to  such  secrets.  He  understood,  moreover,  how 
ridiculous  his  jealousy  would  be  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  which  would  scarcely  have  believed  in  a 


A   START  IN   LIFE  29 

conjugal  passion  in  an  old  high  office-holder.  Why, 
from  the  very  first  days  of  his  married  life,  was  he 
fascinated  by  his  wife?  Why  did  he  suffer  at  first 
without  having  his  revenge  ?  Why  did  he  no  longer 
dare  to  have  his  revenge?  Why  did  he  let  time 
pass,  abused  by  hope?  By  what  means  did  a 
young,  pretty  and  witty  wife  make  him  a  serf? 
The  answering  of  all  these  questions  would  require 
a  long  history  that  would  detract  from  the  subject 
of  this  scene,  and  which,  if  not  men,  at  least 
women  will  be  able  to  see  into.  We  may  remark, 
however,  that  the  comte's  enormous  labors  and 
sorrows  had  unfortunately  helped  to  deprive  him  of 
the  advantages  necessary  to  a  man  struggling 
against  dangerous  comparisons.  And  so  the  most 
frightful  of  the  comte's  secret  misfortunes  was  his 
having  justified  his  wife's  repugnance  by  a  malady 
due  solely  to  his  excess  of  work.  Good,  and  even 
excellent  toward  the  comtesse,  he  allowed  her  to  be 
mistress  in  her  own  house;  she  received  all  Paris, 
she  went  to  the  country,  she  returned  from  it,  abso- 
lutely as  if  she  had  been  a  widow;  he  watched  over 
her  estate  and  provided  for  her  outlay  as  an  overseer 
would  have  done.  The  comtesse  held  her  husband 
in  the  highest  esteem,  she  even  loved  his  turn  of 
mind;  she  knew  how  to  make  him  happy  by  her 
approbation ;  and  so  she  did  whatever  she  pleased 
with  this  poor  man  by  going  and  chatting  with  him 
for  an  hour.  Like  the  great  lords  of  old,  the  comte 
so  well  protected  his  wife  that  to  make  any  malign 
insinuation  in  regard  to  her  would  have  been  to 


30  A  START  IN   LIFE 

offer  him  an  unpardonable  insult.  The  world 
greatly  admired  this  character,  and  Madame  de 
Serizy  was  immensely  indebted  to  her  husband.  Any 
other  woman,  even  though  she  belonged  to  a  family 
as  distinguished  as  was  that  of  the  Ronquerolles, 
must  have  seen  herself  lost  forever.  The  comtesse 
was  very  ungrateful,  but  charmingly  so.  From  time 
to  time  she  threw  balm  on  the  comte's  wounds. 

Let  us  now  explain  the  subject  of  the  Minister  of 
State's  sudden  and  incognito  journey. 

A  rich  farmer  of  Beaumont-sur-Oise,  whose  name 
was  Leger,  worked  a  farm  that  was  entirely  sur- 
rounded by  and  cut  into  the  comte's  estate,  and 
which  spoiled  his  magnificent  Presles  property. 
This  farm  was  owned  by  a  bourgeois  of  Beau- 
mont-sur-Oise, named  Margueron.  The  lease 
given  to  Leger  in  1799,  when  the  progress  in 
agriculture  could  not  be  foreseen,  was  on  the 
point  of  expiring,  and  the  owner  refused  Leger's 
offer  for  a  new  lease.  For  a  long  time  past  Mon- 
sieur de  Serizy,  who  wanted  to  get  rid  of  the  cares 
and  disputes  arising  from  surrounded  tracts,  had 
conceived  the  hope  of  buying  this  farm  when  he 
learned  that  Monsieur  Margueron's  whole  ambition 
was  to  have  his  only  son,  then  a  mere  collector,  ap- 
pointed special  receiver  of  finances  at  Senlis. 
Moreau  called  his  master's  attention  to  a  dangerous 
adversary  in  the  person  of  old  Leger.  The  farmer, 
who  knew  at  how  high  a  price  he  could  resell  this 
farm  to  the  comte,  was  able  to  give  enough  money 
to  exceed  the  advantage  that  the  special  inducement 


A  START   IN   LIFE  3I 

would  offer  to  the  younger  Margueron.  Two  days 
previously  the  comte,  urged  to  close  up  the  matter, 
had  called  in  his  notary,  Alexandre  Crottat,  and 
Derville,  his  lawyer,  to  examine  the  circumstances 
of  this  affair.  Though  Derville  and  Crottat  threw 
doubt  on  the  manager's  zeal,  a  disturbing  letter  from 
whom  had  provoked  this  consultation,  the  comte 
defended  Moreau,  who,  he  said,  had  served  him 
faithfully  for  seventeen  years. 

"Well,"  Derville  had  replied,  "I  advise  Your 
Lordship  to  go  yourself  to  Presles,  and  invite  this 
Margueron  to  dinner.  Crottat  will  send  his  chief 
clerk  there,  with  a  bill  of  sale  all  ready,  leaving 
blank  the  pages  or  lines  necessary  for  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  land  or  the  names.  In  fine,  let  Your 
Excellency  provide  yourself,  if  necessary,  with  a 
part  of  the  price  in  a  draft  on  the  Bank,  and  do  not 
forget  the  son's  appointment  to  the  Senlis  receiver- 
ship. If  you  do  not  close  at  once,  the  farm  will 
slip  away  from  you!  Comte,  you  do  not  know  the 
trickery  of  peasants.  Between  peasant  and  diplo- 
mat, the  diplomat  succumbs." 

Crottat  backed  up  this  advice,  which,  according 
to  the  valet's  confidence  to  Pierrotin,  the  peer  of 
France  had  no  doubt  taken.  The  evening  before, 
the  comte  had  sent  word  by  the  Beaumont  stage  to 
Moreau,  telling  him  to  invite  Margueron  to  dinner  so 
as  to  close  up  the  Moulineaux  affair.  Before  this 
affair  the  comte  had  ordered  the  Presles  apartments 
to  be  restored  and  for  a  year  past  Monsieur  Grindot, 
an  architect  in  vogue,  had  been  making  a  journey 


32  A  START  IN  LIFE 

thither  every  week.  Now,  while  concluding  his 
purchase,  Monsieur  de  Serizy  wanted  to  examine  at 
the  same  time  the  details  and  effect  of  the  new  fur- 
nishings. He  counted  on  giving  his  wife  a  surprise 
when  taking  her  to  Presles,  and  took  pride  in  the 
restoration  of  this  chateau.  What  event  had  hap- 
pened to  make  the  comte,  who  was  ostentatiously 
going  to  Presles  the  previous  evening,  want  to  be- 
take himself  thither  incognito  in  Pierrotin's  coach? 

Here  a  few  words  on  the  manager's  life  become  in- 
dispensable. 

Moreau,  the  manager  of  the  Presles  estate,  was 
the  son  of  a  provincial  procurator,  who  at  the  Revo- 
lution became  chief  procurator  at  Versailles.  In  that 
quality  the  senior  Moreau  had  almost  saved  the  prop- 
erty and  life  of  Messieurs  de  Serizy,  father  and 
son.  This  Citizen  Moreau  belonged  to  the  Danton 
party;  Robespierre,  implacable  in  his  hate,  followed 
him  up,  at  last  discovered  him  and  had  him  put  to 
death  at  Versailles.  The  junior  Moreau,  heir  to  his 
father's  doctrines  and  friendships,  became  embroiled 
in  one  of  the  conspiracies  hatched  against  the  First 
Consul  on  his  coming  into  power.  At  that  time 
Monsieur  de  Serizy,  anxious  to  pay  his  debt  of  grati- 
tude, got  Moreau  to  escape  in  time,  but  the  latter  was 
condemned  to  death;  then  he  asked  for  his  pardon 
in  1804,  obtained  it,  and  first  offered  him  a  place 
in  his  office,  and  at  last  took  him  as  secretary,  giving 
him  the  management  of  his  private  affairs.  Some 
time  after  his  protector's  marriage,  Moreau  fell  in 
love  with   one    of    the    comtesse's   chambermaids 


A  START  IN  LIFE  33 

and  married  her.  To  escape  the  annoyance  of  the 
false  position  he  was  placed  in  by  this  union,  more 
than  one  example  of  which  was  to  be  found  at  the 
Imperial  Court,  he  asked  for  the  management  of  the 
Presles  estate,  where  his  wife  could  play  the  lady 
and  where,  in  that  limited  sphere,  neither  of  them 
would  experience  any  hurting  of  their  pride.  The 
comte  needed  a  devoted  man  at  Presles,  for  his 
wife  preferred  living  on  the  Serizy  estate,  which  is 
only  five  leagues  from  Paris.  For  three  or  four 
years  past  Moreau  had  the  key  to  his  affairs,  for  he 
was  intelligent;  and  before  the  Revolution  he  had 
studied  pettifogging  in  his  father's  office;  Monsieur 
de  Serizy  said  to  him  then : 

•'You  will  not  make  a  fortune,  you  are  ruined; 
but  you  will  be  happy,  for  1  take  it  upon  myself  to 
make  you  happy." 

In  effect,  the  comte  fixed  a  salary  of  a  thousand 
crowns  on  Moreau,  and  a  home  in  a  pretty  pavilion 
at  the  end  of  the  commons;  he  allowed  him  in  ad- 
dition to  cut  so  many  cords  of  firewood,  an  allow- 
ance of  oats,  straw  and  hay  for  two  horses,  and 
rights  on  returns  in  kind.  A  sub-prefect  is  not  so 
well  off.  During  the  first  eight  years  of  his  office 
the  manager  administered  Presles  conscientiously; 
he  took  an  interest  in  it.  The  comte,  on  coming 
there  to  examine  the  domain,  to  decide  on  what  was 
to  be  purchased  or  to  approve  of  work,  struck  by 
Moreau's  fidelity,  gave  him  proof  of  his  satisfaction 
in  ample  gratuities.  But  when  Moreau  saw  himself 
the  father  of  a  daughter,  his  third  child,  he  was 
3 


34  A  START  IN  LIFE 

SO  well  established  in  all  his  privileges  at  Presles 
that  he  no  longer  rendered  to  Monsieur  de  Serizy 
an  account  of  so  many  exorbitant  advantages.  And 
so,  about  1816,  the  manager,  who  until  then  had 
taken  only  his  privileges  at  Presles,  gladly  accepted 
from  a  dealer  in  wood  a  sum  of  twenty-five  thousand 
francs  to  conclude  with  him,  with  increase  besides, 
a  lease  for  the  turning  to  account  of  the  woods  de- 
pending on  the  Presles  estate,  for  twelve  years. 
Moreau  reasoned  with  himself :  he  would  have  noth- 
ing to  fall  back  upon,  he  was  the  father  of  a  family, 
the  comte  owed  him  this  sum  indeed  for  well  nigh 
ten  years'  management;  then,  already  the  lawful 
possessor  of  sixty  thousand  francs  savings,  if  he 
added  this  sum  to  it  he  could  buy  a  farm  for  a  hun- 
dred thousand  francs  in  the  Champagne  territory, 
a  commune  situated  above  L'Isle-Adam,  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  Oise,  Political  events  prevented  the 
comte  and  the  people  of  the  country  from  remark- 
ing this  investment  made  in  Madame  Moreau's 
name,  who  was  supposed  to  have  had  an  inheritance 
from  an  old  grandaunt  in  her  own  section  at  Saint- 
L6.  As  soon  as  the  manager  had  tasted  the  deli- 
cious fruit  of  ownership,  his  conduct  apparently 
ever  remained  the  most  irreproachable  in  the  world; 
but  he  no  longer  lostasingleopportunity  to  increase 
his  clandestine  fortune,  and  the  interests  of  his  three 
children  served  him  as  an  emollient  to  extinguish 
the  ardor  of  his  probity;  yet  this  justice  should  be 
done  him,  that,  if  he  accepted  bonuses,  if  he  looked 
out  for  himself  in  the  markets,  if  he  insisted  on  his 


A  START  IN  LIFE  35 

rights  so  far  as  to  abuse  them,  within  the  meaning 
of  the  Code  he  remained  an  honest  man,  and  no 
proof  could  justify  an  accusation  made  against  him. 
According  to  the  jurisprudence  of  the  least  pilfering 
of  Paris  cooks,  he  shared  between  the  comte  and 
himself  the  profits  due  to  his  own  shrewdness.  This 
way  of  rounding  out  his  fortune  was  a  case  of  con- 
science, that  was  all.  Active,  having  a  good  under- 
standing of  the  comte's  interests,  Moreau  with  so 
much  the  greater  care  lay  in  wait  for  opportunities 
to  make  good  acquisitions,  as  he  always  thereby  got 
quite  a  big  present  Presles  brought  a  return  of 
seventy-two  thousand  francs  clear.  And  so  the  ex- 
pression of  the  country  for  ten  leagues  around  was: 
"Monsieur  de  Serizy  has  a  second  self  in  Moreau!" 
Like  a  prudent  man,  from  1817  on,  Moreau  invested 
his  yearly  profits  and  salary  in  the  Funds,  still 
feathering  his  nest  with  the  most  profound  secrecy. 
He  had  declined  business  chances,  saying  he  had  no 
money,  and  he  had  succeeded  so  well  in  making  a 
poor  mouth  to  the  comte  that  he  had  obtained  two 
wholly  free  scholarships  for  his  boys  in  the  Col- 
lege Henri  IV.  At  that  moment  Moreau  had  a  cap- 
ital of  a  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  francs 
invested  in  the  Consolidated  Threes,  since  become 
the  five  per  cents,  and  which  rose  from  that  time  to 
eighty  francs.  These  unknown  hundred  and  twenty 
thousand  francs,  and  his  Champagne  farm  augmented 
by  additions,  made  his  fortune  amount  to  about  two 
hundred  and  eighty  thousand  francs,  producing  an 
income  of  sixteen  thousand  francs. 


II 


* 

Such  was  the  manager's  situation  at  the  moment 
when  the  comte  wanted  to  buy  the  Moulineaux 
farm,  the  possession  of  which  was  indispensable  to 
his  tranquillity.  This  farm  consisted  of  ninety-six 
plots  of  ground,  bordering  on,  lying  close  to,  and 
running  along  the  Presles  estate,  and  often  wedged 
into  it  like  checker-board  spaces,  without  count- 
ing the  party-hedges  and  dividing  trenches,  which 
gave  rise  to  the  most  tiresome  discussions  about  a 
tree  to  be  cut  down,  when  the  ownership  was  found 
to  be  in  dispute.  Any  other  than  a  Minister  of 
State  would  have  had  twenty  lawsuits  a  year  in 
regard  to  the  Moulineaux.  Old  Leger  wanted  to 
buy  the  farm  only  to  sell  it  again  to  the  comte. 
In  order  the  more  surely  to  make  the  thirty  or 
forty  thousand  francs,  the  object  of  his  desire,  the 
farmer  had  long  tried  to  have  an  understanding 
with  Moreau.  Impelled  by  the  circumstances, 
three  days  before  that  critical  Saturday,  out  in  the 
fields,  old  Leger  had  clearly  demonstrated  to  the 
manager  that  he  could  place  money  for  the  Comte 
de  Serizy  at  two  and  a  half  per  cent  net  in  conven- 
ient land,  that  is,  as  usual,  have  the  appearance  of 
serving  his  master  while  deriving  therefrom  a  secret 
profit  of  forty  thousand  francs  that  he  offered  him. 

"Faith,"  the  manager  said  to  his  wife  the  even- 
ing before  as  he  was  going  to  bed,  "if  I  get  fifty 

(37) 


189939 


38  A  START  IN  LIFE 

thousand  francs  out  of  the  Moulineaux  affair,  for  the 
gentleman  will  indeed  give  me  ten  thousand  of  it, 
we  will  retire  to  L'Isle-Adam,  to  the  Nogent  pavil- 
ion." 

This  pavilion  is  a  charming  property  built  by  the 
Prince  de  Conti  for  a  lady,  and  on  which  every  at- 
tention had  been  lavished. 

"That  would  please  me,"  his  wife  had  replied  to 
him.  "The  Dutchman  who  has  come  to  settle  there 
has  restored  it  very  well,  and  he  will  let  us  have  it 
for  thirty  thousand  francs,  as  he  is  compelled  to  re- 
turn to  the  Indies." 

"We  will  be  only  a  couple  of  steps  from  Cham- 
pagne," Moreau  had  continued.  "I  hope  to  buy 
the  Mours  farm  and  mill  for  a  hundred  thousand 
francs.  We  would  thus  have  ten  thousand  francs 
income  from  land,  one  of  the  most  delightful  dwell- 
ings in  the  valley,  only  a  couple  of  steps  from  our 
property,  and  there  would  remain  to  us  about  six 
thousand  francs  of  income  from  the  Funds." 

"But  why  should  you  not  ask  for  the  position  of 
Justice  of  the  Peace  at  L'Isle-Adam?  From  it  we 
would  have  influence  and  fifteen  hundred  francs  in 
addition." 

"Oh!  I  have  been  thinking  a  good  deal  of  that." 

In  these  circumstances,  on  learning  that  his  mas- 
ter intended  to  come  to  Presles,  that  he  desired  him 
to  invite  Margueron  to  dinner  on  Saturday,  Moreau 
made  haste  to  send  an  express  messenger,  who  gave 
to  the  comte's  first  valet  de  chambre  a  letter  at  too 
late  an  hour  in  the  evening  for  Monsieur  de  Serizy 


A  START  IN  LIFE  39 

to  be  able  to  take  cognizance  of  it;  but  Augustin 
put  it  on  the  bureau,  according  to  his  custom  in  such 
cases.  In  this  letter  Moreau  entreated  the  comte 
not  to  inconvenience  himself  and  to  trust  in  his 
zeal.  Now,  according  to  him,  Margueron  no  longer 
wanted  to  sell  in  a  lump  and  spoke  of  dividing  the 
Moulineaux  into  ninety-six  lots;  it  was  necessary 
to  get  him  to  give  up  this  idea,  and  perhaps,  said 
the  manager,  to  secure  a  secret  agent 

Everybody  has  his  enemies.  Now,  the  manager 
and  his  wife  had  had  a  clash  with  a  retired  officer 
at  Presles,  named  Monsieur  de  Reybert,  and  his 
wife.  From  tongue-lashings  to  pin  stabs  they  came 
at  last  to  daggers'  points. 

Monsieur  de  Reybert  breathed  only  vengeance, 
he  wanted  to  make  Moreau  lose  his  place  and  be- 
come his  successor.  These  two  ideas  are  twins. 
And  so  the  manager's  conduct,  spied  for  two  years, 
had  no  more  secrets  for  the  Reyberts.  At  the  same 
time  that  Moreau  was  dispatching  his  express  mes- 
senger to  the  Comte  de  Serizy,  Reybert  was  send- 
ing his  wife  to  Paris.  Madame  de  Reybert  so 
urgently  asked  to  speak  with  the  comte  that,  sent 
away  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  the  time  when 
the  comte  was  retiring,  she  was  introduced  to  His 
Lordship  at  seven  o'clock  next  morning. 

"  Your  Lordship,"  she  had  said  to  the  Minister  of 
State,  "  we  are  incapable,  both  my  husband  and 
myself,  of  writing  anonymous  letters.  I  am  Ma- 
dame de  Reybert,  my  maiden  name  De  Corroy. 
My  husband  has  only  six  hundred  francs  pension 


40  A  START  IN  LIFE 

and  we  live  at  Presles,  where  your  manager  heaps 
insult  after  insult  on  us,  though  we  are  well-be- 
haved people.     Monsieur  de  Reybert,  who  is  not  an 
intriguer,  far  from  it!  retired  as  captain  of  artillery 
in    1816,   after   having    served   for   twenty   years, 
always    far    from   the   Emperor,   comte!    and   you 
must  know  how  hard  it  was  for  soldiers  to  advance 
who  were  not  under  the  master's  eye;  having  noth- 
ing to  depend  on  but  probity.  Monsieur  de  Reybert's 
frankness  displeased  his  superior  officers.     My  hus- 
band  has    never  ceased  for  three  years  to  study 
your  overseer  with  the  purpose  of  making  him  lose 
his   place.     You   see  that  we  are  frank.     Moreau 
has  made  us  his  enemies,  we  have  watched  him. 
I  have  come,  then,  to  tell    you  that  you  are  made 
game  of  in  the  Moulineaux  affair.     They  want  to 
take  a  hundred  thousand  francs  from  you  and  divide 
it  between   the   notary,   Leger   and  Moreau.     You 
have  asked  that  Margueron  be  invited,  you  count 
on  going  to  Presles  to-morrow;  but  Margueron  will 
play  sick,  and  Leger  is  so  confident  of  having  the 
farm  that  he  has  come  to  Paris  to  cash  his  assets. 
If  we  have  enlightened  you,  if  you  want  an  honest 
manager,  you  will  take  my  husband;  though  noble, 
he  will  serve  you  as  he  served  the  State.     Your 
overseer  has  a  fortune   of  two  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  francs,  he  is  not  to  be  pitied." 

The  comte  had  formally  thanked  Madame  de 
Reybert,  and  had  then  given  her  cold  comfort,  for 
he  despised  informing;  but  on  recalling  all  of  Der- 
ville's  suspicions,  he  was  internally  disturbed;  then 


A  START  IN  LIFE  4 1 

he  had  suddenly  noticed  his  manager's  letter,  he 
had  read  it;  and  in  the  assurances  of  devotedness, 
in  the  respectful  reproaches  that  he  received  in 
reference  to  the  distrust  suggested  by  this  desire  to 
treat  of  the  affair  himself,  he  had  divined  the  truth 
in  regard  to  Moreau. 

"Corruption  has  come  with  fortune,  as  ever!"  he 
said  to  himself. 

The  comte  had  then  put  some  questions  to  Ma- 
dame de  Reybert,  less  to  get  details  than  to  give 
himself  time  to  observe  her,  and  he  had  written  to 
his  notary  a  few  words  telling  him  not  to  send  his 
chief  clerk  to  Presles,  but  to  come  there  himself  to 
dinner. 

"If  the  comte,"  Madame  de  Reybert  had  said  in 
closing,  "has  judged  unfavorably  of  the  course  that 
I  have  taken,  unknown  to  Monsieur  de  Reybert,  he 
should  now  be  convinced  that  we  have  got  this  in- 
formation about  his  manager  in  the  most  natural 
way:  the  most  timid  conscience  would  find  nothing 
in  it  to  take  back." 

Madame  de  Reybert,  nee  De  Corroy,  stood  as  erect 
as  a  picket  To  the  comte's  hurried  examination 
she  had  presented  a  countenance  pitted  by  small-pox 
like  a  skimmer,  a  squat  and  dry  figure,  two  spark- 
ling and  clear  eyes,  blond  locks  flattened  down  over 
a  care-worn  brow,  an  antiquated  green  sarsenet 
capuchin  turned  up  like  a  rose,  a  white  dress  with 
violet  spots,  and  rawhide  shoes.  The  comte  had 
recognized  in  her  the  poor  captain's  wife,  some  Puri- 
tan subscriber  to  the  Courrier  Francais,  ardent  in 


42  A  START  IN  LIFE 

virtue,  but  sensible  to  the  comfort  of  a  place,  and 
having  coveted  it. 

"You  say  six  hundred  francs  pension?"  the 
comte  had  replied,  answering  himself  instead  of 
answering  what  Madame  de  Reybert  had  just  re- 
lated. 

"Yes,  comte." 

"Your  maiden  name  is  De  Corroy?" 

"Yes,  monsieur,  of  a  noble  family  of  the  Messin 
country,  my  husband's  country." 

"In  what  regiment  did  Monsieur  de  Reybert 
serve?" 

"In  the  seventh  regiment  of  artillery." 

"Good!"  the  comte  had  answered  as  he  wrote 
down  the  number  of  the  regiment. 

He  had  thought  he  would  be  able  to  give  the 
management  of  his  estate  to  a  former  officer,  in 
regard  to  whom  he  would  obtain  from  the  Ministry 
of  War  the  most  exact  information. 

"Madame,"  he  had  continued  as  he  rang  for  his 
valet  de  chambre,  "return  to  Presles  with  my 
notary,  who  will  find  the  way  of  getting  there  in 
time  for  dinner,  and  to  whom  I  have  recommended 
you ;  here  is  his  address.  I  am  going  myself 
secretly  to  Presles,  and  will  send  word  to  Monsieur 
de  Reybert  to  come  and  speak  with  me — " 

Thus  the  news  of  Monsieur  de  Serizy's  journey 
by  public  coach  and  the  recommendation  to  keep 
silent  regarding  the  comte's  name  were  not  a  false 
alarm  to  the  carrier,  who  had  a  presentiment  of  the 
danger  about  to  fall  on  one  of  his  best  customers. 


A  START  IN  LIFE  43 

As  he  left  the  Exchequer  cafe,  Pierrotin  noticed  at 
the  door  of  the  Lion  d' Argent  the  woman  and  the 
young  man  whom  his  perspicacity  had  pointed  out 
to  him  as  customers;  for  the  lady,  with  her  neck 
stretched  and  an  anxious  expression  on  her  counte- 
nance, was  evidently  looking  for  him.  This  lady, 
clad  in  a  re-dyed  black  silk  gown,  a  bonnet  of  Car- 
melite color  and  an  old  French  cashmere,  with  floss- 
silk  stockings  and  goat-skin  shoes,  held  in  her  hand 
a  straw  market-basket  and  a  royal-blue  umbrella. 
This  woman,  formerly  pretty,  looked  about  forty 
years  old;  but  her  blue  eyes,  devoid  of  the  bright- 
ness that  happiness  gives,  told  that  she  had  long 
since  given  up  the  world.  And  so  her  attire,  as 
well  as  her  shape,  indicated  a  mother  entirely  de- 
voted to  her  housekeeping  and  to  her  son.  If  her 
bonnet-strings  were  faded, their  style  dated  from  over 
three  years  back.  Her  shawl  was  fastened  with  a 
broken  needle,  converted  into  a  pin  by  means  of  a 
head  of  sealing-wax.  The  unknown  woman  waited 
impatiently  for  Pierrotin  so  as  to  recommend  to  him 
that  son,  who  no  doubt  was  traveling  alone  for  the 
first  time,  and  whom  she  had  accompanied  as  far  as 
the  coach,  as  much  from  distrust  as  from  maternal 
love.  This  mother  was  in  a  certain  sense  completed 
by  her  son ;  so  that  without  the  mother  the  son  would 
not  have  been  so  well  understood.  If  the  mother 
stinted  herself  to  exhibiting  mended  gloves,  the  son 
wore  an  olive  overcoat  the  sleeves  of  which,  rather 
short  at  the  wrist,  told  that  he  was  still  growing, 
like    adults   of   eighteen   or    nineteen.       His   blue 


44  A  START  IN  LIFE 

trousers,  mended  by  his  mother,  showed  to  the  eye 
a  new  seat  when  the  overcoat  by  mischance  became 
open  at  the  back. 

"Don't  fidget  with  your  gloves  so,  you  will  spoil 
them  too  quickly,"  she  said  when  Pierrotin  ap- 
peared. "You  are  the  conductor— Ah!  but  it's  you, 
Pierrotin?"  she  continued  as  she  left  her  son  for  a 
moment  and  took  the  coach-driver  a  couple  of  steps 
away. 

"That's  all  right,  Madame  Clapart?"  replied  the 
carrier,  whose  countenance  wore  an  expression  that 
bespoke  respect  and  familiarity  at  the  same  time. 

"Yes,  Pierrotin.  Be  very  careful  of  my  Oscar, 
he  is  going  alone  for  the  first  time." 

"Oh !  if  he  is  going  alone  to  Monsieur  Moreau's — " 
the  coach-driver  called  out  so  as  to  know  whether 
the  young  man  was  going  there  indeed. 

"Yes,"  the  mother  replied. 

"Madame  Moreau  is  quite  willing,  then.?"  Pier- 
rotin continued  in  a  rather  sly  way. 

"Alas!"  said  the  mother,  "it  will  not  be  all  rosy 
for  him,  poor  child;  but  his  future  imperatively 
demands  this  journey." 

This  answer  struck  Pierrotin,  who  hesitated  to 
confide  his  fears  regarding  the  manager  to  Madame 
Clapart,  just  as  she  dared  not  injure  her  son  by 
making  to  Pierrotin  certain  recommendations  that 
would  have  changed  the  conductor  into  a  mentor. 
During  this  mutual  deliberation,  which  was  be- 
trayed by  some  expressions  about  the  weather,  the 
road,  and  the  stopping-places  on  the  journey,  it  may 


A  START  IN  LIFE  45 

not  be  amiss  to  explain  what  bonds  connected  Pier- 
rotin  with  Madame  Clapart  and  authorized  the  few 
confidential  words  that  they  had  just  exchanged. 
Frequently,  that  is  to  say,  three  or  four  times  a 
month,  Pierrotin  found  at  La  Cave,  on  his  way 
when  he  was  going  to  Paris,  the  manager  giving  a 
signal  to  a  gardener  as  he  saw  the  coach  coming. 
The  gardener  then  assisted  Pierrotin  to  load  one  or 
two  baskets  full  of  fruit  or  vegetables  according  to 
the  season,  chickens,  eggs,  butter,  game.  The 
manager  always  paid  Pierrotin  the  freight,  giving 
him  the  money  necessary  to  meet  the  toll  at  the 
gate,  if  the  shipment  contained  articles  subject  to 
duty.  Never  did  these  hampers,  game-baskets  and 
packages  have  an  address  on  them.  A  first  time, 
which  had  served  for  all,  the  manager  had  given 
by  word  of  mouth  Madame  Clapart's  residence  to 
the  discreet  coach-driver,  entreating  him  never  to 
confide  this  precious  message  to  others.  Pierrotin, 
thinking  of  an  intrigue  between  some  charming  girl 
and  the  manager,  had  gone  to  No.  7,  Rue  de  la  Ce- 
risaie,  in  the  Arsenal  quarter,  where  he  had  seen 
Madame  Clapart,  whose  picture  we  have  just  drawn, 
instead  of  the  young  and  pretty  creature  whom  he 
expected  to  find  there.  Carriers  are  called  upon  by 
their  office  to  penetrate  into  many  interiors  and  into 
quite  a  number  of  secrets; — but  social  chance,  that 
sub-Providence,  having  willed  that  they  be  devoid 
of  education  or  innocent  of  the  talent  of  taking 
notice,  it  follows  that  they  are  not  dangerous. 
Nevertheless,  after  a  few  months,  Pierrotin  knew 


46 


A  START  IN   LIFE 


not  how  to  explain  the  relations  between  Madame 
CI  apart  and  Monsieur  Moreau,  from  what  he  was 
allowed  to  see  into  in  the  Rue  de  la  Cerisaie  house- 
hold. Though  rents  were  not  high  at  that  time  in 
the  Arsenal  quarter,  Madame  Clapart  was  lodged 
on  the  fourth  floor,  at  the  end  of  a  court,  in  a  house 
that  formerly  had  been  the  mansion  of  some  great 
lord,  at  the  time  when  the  higher  nobility  of  the 
kingdom  dwelt  on  the  former  site  of  the  Palais  des 
Tournelles  and  the  Hotel  Saint-Paul.  Towards  the 
end  of  the  sixteenth  century  great  families  divided 
between  them  these  vast  spaces,  occupied  of  old  by 
the  gardens  of  the  palace  of  our  kings,  as  is  indi- 
cated by  the  names  of  the  Rue  de  la  Cerisaie, 
Beautreillis,  des  Lions,  etc.  This  tenement,  all 
the  rooms  of  which  were  finished  in  antique  wood- 
work, was  made  up  of  three  rooms  in  a  row,  a  din- 
ing-room, a  salon  and  a  bedroom.  Overhead  were 
a  kitchen  and  Oscar's  room.  Opposite  the  front 
door,  on  what  in  Paris  is  called  the  square,  was 
seen  the  door  of  a  side  room,  arranged  on  each  floor 
in  a  sort  of  building  that  also  contained  the  shaft 
of  a  wooden  stairway,  and  which  formed  a  square 
tower  built  of  large  stones.  This  room  was  that  of 
Moreau  when  he  slept  in  Paris,  Pierrotin  had  seen 
in  the  first  room,  where  he  laid  down  the  game- 
baskets,  six  straw-seated  walnut  chairs,  a  table  and 
a  sideboard;  six  windows  with  small  red  curtains. 
Later  on,  when  he  entered  the  salon,  he  remarked 
there  some  old  furniture  of  the  time  of  the  Empire, 
but  out  of  date.     Besides,  there  was  to  be  found  in 


A   START  IN  LIFE  47 

this  salon  only  the  furniture  required  by  the  land- 
lord to  answer  for  the  rent.  Pierrotin  formed  his 
opinion  of  the  bedroom  from  the  salon  and  dining- 
room.  The  woodwork,  set  off  by  rough  painting  of 
a  whitish  red,  made  the  mouldings,  designs  and/ig- 
urines  clammy,  and  far  from  being  an  ornament, 
saddened  the  eye.  The  floor,  which  had  never 
been  waxed,  was  of  a  grayish  hue,  like  boarding- 
school  floors.  When  the  coach-driver  took  Monsieur 
and  Madame  Clapart  by  surprise  at  table,  their 
plates,  glasses  and  smallest  articles  betrayed  fright- 
ful pinching;  yet  they  made  use  of  silver  covers; 
but  the  dishes  and  soup  tureen,  chipped  and  mended 
as  are  the  plates  and  dishes  of  the  poor,  inspired 
pity.  Monsieur  Clapart,  clad  in  a  mean  little  over- 
coat, with  ignoble  slippers  on  his  feet,  always 
wearing  green  spectacles,  displayed,  as  he  removed 
a  terrible-looking  object  of  a  cap  that  was  five  years 
old,  a  pointed  skull  from  the  top  of  which  fell  strag- 
gling and  dirty  filaments  that  a  poet  would  have 
refused  to  call  hair.  This  wan-complexioned  man 
seemed  timid  and  must  have  been  tyrannical.  In 
this  sorry  tenement,  situated  on  the  north,  without 
any  view  but  that  of  a  vine  spread  out  on  the  oppo- 
site wall,  of  a  well  in  the  corner  of  the  court,  Ma- 
dame Clapart  took  on  the  airs  of  a  queen  and  walked 
as  a  woman  who  knew  not  how  to  go  on  foot.  Fre- 
quently, as  she  thanked  Pierrotin,  she  cast  glances 
at  him  that  would  have  softened  an  observant  man; 
from  time  to  time  she  slipped  twelve  sou-pieces  into 
his  hand.     Her  voice  was  charming.     Pierrotin  did 


48  A  START  IN  LIFE 

not  know  this  Oscar,  for  the  reason  that  the  boy- 
was  leaving  college  and  that  he  had  never  met  him 
at  home. 

This  is  the  sad  story  that  Pierrotin  would  never 
have  seen  into,  even,  as  he  had  been  doing  for  some 
time  past,  by  asking  information  of  the  portress; 
for  this  woman  knew  nothing,  unless  it  was  that 
the  Claparts  paid  two  hundred  and  fifty  francs  rent, 
had  only  one  house-servant  for  a  few  hours  in  the 
morning,  that  Madame  sometimes  made  some  little 
soap-suds  herself,  and  every  day  paid  the  charges 
on  letters,  not  appearing  in  a  condition  to  let  them 
accumulate. 

There  does  not  exist,  or  rather  there  rarely  ex- 
ists, a  criminal  that  is  wholly  a  criminal.  With 
more  reason  would  it  be  hard  for  one  to  find  com- 
pact dishonesty.  One  may  keep  his  employer's 
accounts  to  his  own  advantage,  or  take  from  the 
crib  as  much  straw  as  possible  for  one's  self ;  but 
while  massing  up  for  one's  self  a  capital  in  ways 
more  or  less  allowable,  there  are  few  men  who  do 
not  perform  some  good  acts.  Were  it  only  from 
curiosity  or  from  pride,  by  way  of  contrast,  per- 
chance, every  man  has  had  his  moment  of  benefi- 
cence; he  calls  it  his  error  and  does  not  begin  over 
again;  but  he  sacrifices  to  Goodness,  as  the  most 
surly  sacrifices  to  the  Graces,  once  or  twice  in  a 
lifetime.  If  Moreau's  fauits  can  be  excused,  will  it 
not  be  by  his  persistence  in  aiding  a  poor  woman 
whose  good  graces  had  formerly  made  him  proud 
and  at  whose  house  he  concealed  himself  during  his 


A  START  IN  LIFE  49 

dangers  ?  This  woman,  famous  under  the  Directory 
by  her  intrigues  with  one  of  the  five  kings  of  the 
moment,  married,  through  that  omnipotent  protec- 
tion, a  purveyor  who  made  millions,  and  whom 
Napoleon  ruined  in  1802.  This  man,  whose  name 
was  Husson,  lost  his  reason  by  his  sudden  transition 
from  opulence  to  penury,  and  threw  himself  into  the 
Seine,  leaving  the  pretty  Madame  Husson  pregnant. 
Moreau,  very  intimately  associated  with  Madame 
Husson,  was  then  under  sentence  of  death ;  accord- 
ingly he  could  not  marry  the  purveyor's  widow,  he 
was  even  obliged  to  leave  France  for  a  short  time. 
Twenty-two  years  old,  Madame  Husson  in  her  dis- 
tress married  a  clerk  named  Clapart,  a  young  man 
of  twenty-seven,  who,  as  the  saying  is,  had  hopes. 
God  save  women  from  handsome  men  who  have 
hopes!  At  that  period  government  clerks  very 
readily  became  people  of  importance,  for  the  Em- 
peror was  looking  for  capacities.  But  Clapart, 
favored  with  a  vulgar  beauty,  had  no  intellect. 
Believing  Madame  Husson  to  be  very  rich,  he  had 
feigned  a  strong  passion  for  her ;  she  was  in  the 
position  of  not  meeting,  either  in  the  present  or  in 
the  future,  the  obligations  she  had  contracted  in  her 
days  of  opulence.  Clapart  rather  unsatisfactorily 
filled  a  place  in  the  Finance  bureau  that  brought  no 
more  than  eighteen  hundred  francs  salary.  When 
Moreau,  on  his  return  to  the  Comte  de  Serizy's, 
learned  of  the  horrible  situation  in  which  Madame 
Husson  was  placed,  he  was  able,  before  getting  mar- 
ried, to  secure  her  a  situation  as  first  chambermaid 
4 


50  A  START  IN  LIFE 

with  Madame,  the  Emperor's  mother.     In  spite  of 
this  powerful  protection,  CI  apart  was  never    able 
to  advance,  his  nullity  was  too  readily  noticeable. 
Ruined  in  1815  by  the  Emperor's  fall,  the  brilliant 
Aspasia    of   the  Directory  remained   without   any 
other  resources  than  a  position  at  twelve  hundred 
francs  salary  that  was  secured  for  CI  apart,  through 
the  influence  of  the  Comte  de  Serizy,  in  the  offices 
of  the  City  of  Paris.     Moreau,  the  only  protector  of 
this  woman  whom  he  had  known  to  be  worth  sev- 
eral millions,  obtained  for  Oscar  Husson  one  of  the 
half-scholarships  of  the  City  of  Paris  in  the  College 
Henry  IV.,  and  he  sent  through  Pierrotin,  to  the 
RuedelaCerisaie,  all  that  could  decently  be  offered 
to   aid  a   household   in   distress.     Oscar   was  the 
whole  future,  the  entire  life,  of  his  mother.     The 
only  fault  with  which  this  poor  woman  can  be  re- 
proached is  the  exaggeration  of  her  tenderness  for 
this  child,  the  stepfather's  bugbear.      Oscar  was 
unfortunately  endowed  with  a  dose  of  folly  that  was 
not  suspected  by  his  mother,  in  spite  of  Clapart's 
epigrams.     This  stupidity,  or,  to  speak  more  cor- 
rectly, this  arrogance,    so   disturbed  the    manager 
that  he  had  entreated  Madame  Clapart  to  send  this 
young  man  to  him  for  a  month,  so  that  he  could 
study  him  and  judge  to  what  career  he  was  best 
adapted;    Moreau   thought  of  one   day   presenting 
Oscar  to  the  comte  as  his  successor.    But,  to  give  the 
devil  exactly  his  due  and  God  what  belongs  to  Him, 
perhaps  it  is  not  amiss  to  state  the  causes  of  Oscar's 
stupid  pride,  by  remarking  that  he  was  born  in  the 


A  START  IN  LIFE  $1 

house  of  Madame,  the  Emperor's  mother.  During 
his  early  childhood  his  eyes  were  dazzled  by  the 
Imperial  splendors.  His  flexible  imagination  must 
have  preserved  the  impressions  of  those  astounding 
tableaux,  kept  an  image  of  that  golden  and  festive 
time,  with  the  hope  of  finding  it  again.  The  buoy- 
ancy natural  to  collegians,  all  possessed  of  the  de- 
sire of  outshining  one  another,  resting  on  those 
memories  of  childhood,  had  developed  beyond 
measure.  Perhaps  also  the  mother  recalled  in  her 
home,  with  a  little  too  much  complaisance,  the  days 
when  she  was  one  of  the  queens  of  Directorial 
Paris.  In  fine,  Oscar,  who  had  just  finished  his 
classes,  had  had  perhaps  to  repel  in  college  the 
humiliations  that  paying  pupils  heap  at  every 
opportunity  on  sizars,  when  sizars  do  not  know  how 
to  impress  a  certain  amount  of  respect  on  them  by 
superior  physical  force.  This  mingling  of  extinct 
former  splendor,  of  vanished  beauty,  of  tenderness 
accepting  misery,  of  hope  in  this  son,  of  maternal 
blindness,  of  sufferings  heroically  borne,  made  of 
this  woman  one  of  those  sublime  figures  which  in 
Paris  court  the  observer's  gaze. 

Incapable  of  seeing  into  Moreau's  great  attach- 
ment to  this  woman,  or  that  of  this  woman  to  her 
protege  of  1797,  become  her  only  friend,  Pierrotin 
did  not  want  to  communicate  the  suspicion  that  was 
passing  through  his  head  regarding  the  danger  in- 
curred by  Moreau.  The  terrible  "We  have  enough 
to  do  to  mind  our  own  business!"  spoken  by  the 
valet  de  chambre   recurred  to  the   coach-driver's 


52  A  START  IN  LIFE 

heart,  as  does  the  feeling  of  obedience  to  those 
whom  he  called  the  front  rank.  Moreover,  at  that 
moment  Pierrotin  felt  as  many  points  in  his  head  as 
there  are  hundred-sou  pieces  in  a  thousand  francs! 
A  trip  of  seven  leagues  no  doubt  seemed  like  a  long 
journey  to  the  imagination  of  that  poor  mother  who, 
in  her  life  of  elegance,  had  rarely  passed  the  bar- 
riers; for  these  words:  "Well,  madame!  Yes, 
madame !"  repeated  by  Pierrotin,  told  clearly  enough 
that  the  coach-driver  desired  to  be  relieved  of 
recommendations  that  were  evidently  too  verbose 
and  useless. 

"You  will  place  the  packages  so  that  they  will 
not  get  wet  in  case  the  weather  changes?" 

"I  have  a  tilt,"  said  Pierrotin.  "Besides,  look 
here,  see,  madame,  with  what  care  they  are  put  on  ?" 

"Oscar,  do  not  remain  more  than  a  fortnight,  no 
matter  how  they  insist  on  your  staying,"  continued 
Madame  Clapart  as  she  returned  to  her  son.  "No 
matter  what  you  do,  you  will  not  be  able  to  please 
Madame  Moreau;  moreover,  you  ought  to  be  back 
for  the  end  of  September,  You  know  we  must  go 
to  Belleville,  to  your  uncle  Cardot's. " 

"Yes,  mamma." 

"Especially,"  she  said  to  him  in  a  low  voice, 
"never  speak  of  domestic  affairs — Keep  constantly 
in  mind  that  Madame  Moreau  was  a  chamber- 
maid— " 

"Yes,  mamma — " 

Oscar,  like  all  young  people  in  whom  pride  is 
excessively  developed,  seemed  out  of  sorts  at  seeing 


A  START  IN  LIFE  55 

himself  thus  admonished  on  the  threshold  of  the 
Lion  d' Argent  hotel. 

"Well,  adieu,  mamma;  they  are  going  to  start, 
see,  the  horse  is  harnessed." 

The  mother,  forgetting  that  she  was  in  the  heart  of 
the  Faubourg  Saint-Denis,  embraced  her  Oscar,  and 
said  to  him  as  she  took  a  nice  little  loaf  from  her 
basket: 

"Hold,  you  were  going  to  forget  your  little  loaf 
and  your  chocolate!  My  child,  I  warn  you  again  to 
take  nothing  at  the  inns,  they  always  charge  ten 
prices  for  the  least  things  there." 

Oscar  would  have  wished  to  see  his  mother  afar 
off  when  she  thrust  the  loaf  and  the  chocolate  into 
his  pocket.  There  were  two  witnesses  to  this 
scene,  two  young  men  some  years  older  than  the 
boy  just  from  college,  better  dressed  than  he, 
who  had  come  without  their  mother,  and  whose 
walk,  toilet  and  airs  betrayed  that  complete 
independence,  the  object  of  all  the  desires  of  a 
boy  still  under  his  mother's  immediate  yoke. 
These  two  young  men  were  then  the  whole  world 
to  Oscar. 

"He  said  mamma,'*  one  of  the  two  unknown  ones 
exclaimed,  laughing. 

This  word  reached  Oscar's  ear  and  made  him 
utter  an  "Adieu,  mother!"  spoken  in  a  tone  of  ter- 
rible impatience. 

Let  us  acknowledge  it:  Madame  Clapart  spoke  a 
little  too  loud  and  seemed  to  let  the  passers-by  into 
the  confidence  of  her  tenderness. 


I 


54  A  START  IN  LIFE 

"What  ails  you,  then,  Oscar?"  this  poor  hurt 
mother  asked.  "I  can't  understand  you,"  she  con- 
tinued in  a  severe  tone,  believing  herself  capable — 
an  error  of  all  mothers  who  spoil  their  children — of 
imposing  respect  on  him.  "Listen,  my  Oscar," 
she  said,  at  once  assuming  her  tender  voice,  "you 
have  a  propensity  to  talk,  to  tell  all  that  you  know 
and  all  that  you  do  not  know,  and  that  out  of 
bravado,  from  a  young  man's  stupid  pride;  I  repeat 
to  you,  be  careful  to  keep  your  tongue  in  check. 
You  are  not  yet  far  enough  advanced  in  life,  my 
dear  treasure,  to  judge  of  people  whom  you  are 
going  to  meet,  and  there  is  nothing  more  dangerous 
than  to  chat  in  public  coaches.  In  a  stage-coach, 
moreover,  the  right  kind  of  people  keep  still." 

The  two  young  men,  who  no  doubt  had  gone  to 
the  lower  end  of  the  establishment,  were  again 
making  the  noise  of  their  boot-heels  heard  under 
the  gateway:  they  might  have  heard  this  lecture; 
and  so,  in  order  to  get  rid  of  his  mother,  Oscar  had 
recourse  to  heroic  means,  which  proves  how  pride 
stimulates  the  intellect. 

"Mamma,"  he  said,  "you  are  here  in  a  draught, 
you  may  get  a  severe  cold;  and,  besides,  1  am  going 
to  get  into  the  coach." 

The  boy  had  touched  some  tender  spot,  for  his 
mother  laid  hold  of  him,  embraced  him  as  though  he 
were  taking  a  long  journey,  and  escorted  him  to  the 
cab,  showing  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"Do  not  forget  to  give  five  francs  to  the  ser- 
vants," she  said.     "Write  to   me  three  times  at 


A  START  IN  LIFE  55 

least  within  a  fortnight!  behave  properly,  and  be 
mindful  of  all  my  recommendations.  You  have 
enough  linen  not  to  get  any  of  it  washed.  In  fine, 
ever  remember  Monsieur  Moreau's  acts  of  kindness, 
listen  to  him  as  to  a  father,  and  faithfully  follow  his 
advice — " 

As  he  got  into  the  cab  Oscar  showed  his  blue 
stockings  in  consequence  of  his  trousers  being  sud- 
denly raised  up,  and  the  new  seat  of  his  trousers  by 
reason  of  the  opening  of  his  overcoat.  And  so  the 
smile  on  the  lips  of  the  two  young  men,  whom  these 
traces  of  honorable  mediocrity  did  not  escape,  in- 
flicted a  fresh  wound  on  the  young  man's  pride. 

"Oscar  has  secured  the  first  seat,"  said  the 
mother  to  Pierrotin.  "Sit  at  the  end,"  she  con- 
tinued, always  looking  tenderly  at  Oscar  and  lov- 
ingly smiling  on  him. 

Oh!  how  Oscar  regretted  that  misfortune  and 
sorrow  had  tarnished  his  mother's  beauty,  that 
poverty  and  devotedness  kept  her  from  being  better 
clad!  One  of  the  two  young  men,  he  who  wore 
boots  and  spurs,  gave  the  other  a  nudge  of  his 
elbow  to  call  his  attention  to  Oscar's  mother,  and 
the  other  turned  up  his  moustache  by  a  movement 
that  meant:  "A  pretty  figure!" 

"How  will  I  get  rid  of  my  mother?"  said  Oscar 
to  himself  as  he  assumed  an  anxious  air. 

"What  ails  you?"  Madame  Clapart  asked  him. 

Oscar  pretended  not  to  have  heard,  the  monster  I 
Perhaps  on  that  occasion  Madame  Clapart  lacked  in 
tact;  but  absolute  feelings  are  so  egoistic! 


56  A   START  IN  LIFE 

"Georges,  do  you  like  children  on  a  journey?" 
the  young  man  asked  of  his  friend. 

"Yes,  if  they  are  weaned,  if  they  are  called 
Oscar,  and  if  they  have  chocolate,  my  dear 
Amaury. " 

These  two  phrases  were  exchanged  in  an  under- 
tone so  as  to  leave  Oscar  free  to  hear  or  not;  his 
countenance  was  going  to  indicate  to  the  traveler  the 
measure  of  what  he  might  try  against  the  boy  by 
way  of  pleasantry  during  the  journey.  Oscar  did 
not  want  to  hear.  He  looked  around  to  know 
whether  his  mother,  who  weighed  on  him  like  a  <, 

nightmare,  was  still  there,  for  he  knew  that  she 
loved  him  too  much  to  leave  him  so  soon.  Not  only 
did  he  involuntarily  compare  his  traveling  compan- 
ion's dress  with  his  own,  but  he  also  felt  that  his 
mother's  toilet  counted  for  much  in  the  mocking 
smile  of  the  two  young  men. 

"If  they  could  only  leave,  they!"  he  said  to  him- 
self. 

Alas!  Amaury  had  just  said  to  Georges,  as  he 
gave  the  cab  wheel  a  slight  rap  with  his   cane: 

"And  you  are  going  to  trust  your  future  to  that 
frail  bark?" 

"I  must!"  said  Georges  with  an  air  of  resigna- 
tion. 

Oscar  heaved  a  sigh  as  he  remarked  the  cavalier 
manner  of  the  hat  set  over  the  ear  as  if  to  show  a 
magnificent  head  of  hair  well  frizzed;  while  he,  by 
his  step-father's  orders,  had  his  black  hair  cut  like 
a  brush  in  front  and  close,  like  that  of  a  soldier. 


A  START  IN  LIFE  57 

The  vain  youth  presented  a  round  and  chubby- 
countenance,  lit  up  by  the  colors  of  robust  health; 
while  his  traveling  companion's  was  long,  finely 
formed  and  pale.  This  young  man's  forehead  was 
broad,  and  his  model  chest  filled  a  waistcoat  of  cash- 
mere make.  While  admiring  a  close-fitting  iron- 
gray  pair  of  trousers,  an  overcoat  with  frogs  and 
olives,  fitting  close  to  the  form,  it  seemed  to 
Oscar  that  this  unknown,  romantic  young  man,  en- 
dowed with  so  many  advantages,  was  abusing  his 
superiority  over  him,  just  as  an  ugly  woman  is 
hurt  by  the  mere  appearance  of  a  pretty  woman. 
The  noise  made  by  the  iron  boot-heels,  which  the 
unknown  one  made  clink  a  little  too  loud  to  please 
Oscar,  resounded  even  to  his  heart.  In  fine,  Oscar 
was  as  embarrassed  by  his  clothes,  perhaps  home- 
made and  cut  out  of  his  step-father's  old  clothes,  as 
this  envied  youth  was  comfortable  in  his. 

"That  chap  there,  must  have  some  money  in  his 
fob,"  thought  Oscar. 

The  young  man  turned  round.  What  must  Oscar 
have  thought  of  himself  as  he  noticed  a  gold  chain 
passed  around  the  neck  and  at  the  end  of  which  no 
doubt  was  a  gold  watch!  This  unknown  one  then 
assumed  in  Oscar's  eyes  the  proportions  of  a  some- 
body. 

Brought  up  in  the  Rue  de  la  Cerisaie  since  1815, 
taken  to  and  brought  back  from  college  on  free  days 
by  his  father,  Oscar  had  no  other  points  of  compari- 
son, since  reaching  the  age  of  puberty,  than  his 
mother's  poor  household.     Kept  strictly  in  bounds 


58  A  START  IN  LIFE 

in  accordance  with  Moreau's  advice,  he  did  not  often 
go  to  the  theatre,  and  he  did  not  rise  any  higher 
then  than  the  Ambigu-Comique,  where  his  eyes  did 
not  perceive  much  elegance,  if,  indeed,  the  attention 
that  a  child  gives  to  the  melodrama  allows  him  to 
examine  the  hall.  His  step-father,  as  was  the  cus- 
tom in  the  time  of  the  Empire,  still  wore  his  watch 
in  his  fob,  and  hanging  down  over  his  abdomen  was 
a  heavy  gold  chain,  at  the  end  of  which  was  a  pack- 
age of  odd  trinkets,  seals,  and  a  key  with  a  round 
and  flat  head,  on  which  was  a  country  scene  in 
mosaic.  Oscar,  who  regarded  this  old  luxury  as  a 
ne  plus  ultra,  was  astounded,  then,  at  this  revela- 
tion of  a  superior  and  matter-of-fact  elegance.  This 
young  man  abusively  displayed  fmely-fmished 
gloves,  and  seemed  to  want  to  dazzle  Oscar's  eyes 
by  gracefully  dangling  before  him  an  elegant  gold- 
headed  cane.  Oscar  was  approaching  that  last 
quarter  of  adolescence  when  small  things  give  great 
joy  and  cause  great  misery,  when  one  prefers  a  mis- 
fortune to  a  ridiculous  toilet;  when  pride,  while  not 
bothering  itself  with  the  great  interests  of  life,  takes 
to  frivolities,  dress,  and  the  desire  of  appearing  to 
be  a  man.  One  then  exaggerates  his  importance, 
and  brag  is  so  much  the  more  exorbitant  as  it  is 
exercised  on  nothings;  but,  if  one  is  jealous  of  an 
elegantly  clad  dunce,  one  is  also  enthusiastic  for 
talent,  one  admires  the  man  of  genius.  These  faults, 
when  they  have  no  roots  in  the  heart,  bespeak  ex- 
uberance of  spirits  and  a  fertile  imagination.  That 
a  youth   of   nineteen,   an  only   son,  kept   strictly 


A   START  IN   LIFE  59 

under  the  paternal  roof  because  of  the  indigence 
afflicting  an  employe  at  twelve  hundred  francs 
salary,  but  adored  and  for  whom  his  mother  imposes 
severe  privations  on  herself,  marvels  at  a  young 
man  of  twenty-two,  envies  him  his  frogged  polonaise 
lined  with  silk,  his  imitation  cashmere  vest  and 
cravat  passed  through  a  ring  of  bad  taste — are  not 
these  peccadillos  committed  in  all  ranks  of  society, 
by  the  inferior  who  is  jealous  of  his  superior?  The 
man  of  genius  himself  obeys  this  first  passion.  Did 
not  Rousseau  of  Geneva  admire  Venture  and  Bade? 
But  Oscar  passed  from  peccadillo  to  fault,  he  felt 
humiliated,  he  took  a  dislike  to  his  traveling  com- 
panion, and  there  arose  in  his  heart  a  secret  desire 
to  prove  to  him  that  he  was  just  as  good  as  he  was. 
The  two  fine  young  men  were  ever  sauntering  from 
the  gate  to  the  stables,  from  the  stables  to  the  gate, 
and  going  as  far  as  the  street;  and  when  they  turned 
round  they  always  looked  at  Oscar,  who  was 
crouching  in  his  corner.  Oscar,  persuaded  that  the 
chucklings  of  the  two  young  men  concerned  him, 
affected  the  most  profound  indifference.  He  took  to 
humming  the  refrain  of  a  song  then  set  in  vogue  by 
the  Liberals,  and  which  said  " 'Tis  Foltaire  wlio's 
to  blame,  'Us  Rousseau  who's  to  blame."  This  at- 
titude no  doubt  led  to  his  being  taken  for  a  lawyer's 
junior  clerk. 

"See  here,  maybe  he's  in  the  Opera  chorus," 
said  Amaury. 

Exasperated,  Oscar  jumped  up,  raised  the  slide 
and  said  to  Pierrotin: 


60  A  START  IN  LIFE 

"When  are  we  going  to  start?" 

"In  a  jiffy,"  replied  the  carrier,  who  held  his 
whip  in  his  hand  and  was  looking  in  the  direction 
of  the  Rue  d'Enghien. 

At  that  moment  the  scene  was  enlivened  by  the 
arrival  of  a  young  man  accompanied  by  a  genuine 
gamin,  who  made  their  appearance  followed  by  a 
factotum  dragging  a  car  with  the  aid  of  a  breast- 
strap.  The  young  man  came  to  speak  confidentially 
to  Pierrotin,  who  tossed  his  head  and  began  to  hail 
his  agent.  The  agent  ran  to  assist  in  unloading  the 
little  car,  which  contained,  besides  two  trunks, 
buckets,  brushes,  boxes  of  strange  forms,  an  infinite 
number  of  packages  and  utensils,  which  the  younger 
of  the  two  new  passengers,  mounted  on  the  top, 
placed  there,  and  packed  in  there  with  so  much 
celerity  that  poor  Oscar,  smiling  at  his  mother  then 
on  guard  at  the  other  side  of  the  street,  saw  none  of 
these  utensils  that  might  have  revealed  the  profes- 
sion of  these  new  traveling  companions.  The 
gamin,  about  sixteen  years  old,  wore  a  gray  blouse  ■■ 

fastened  by  a  varnished  leather  belt.     His  cap,  like 
a  skull-cap  swagger ingly  placed  on  his  head,  be-  "^i 

spoke  a  bantering  character,  as  did  the  picturesque  -.' 

disorder  of  his  curly  brown  hair  that  spread  over  his 
shoulders.     His  black  taffeta  cravat  outlined  a  very  j 

white  neck,  and  brought  out  more  clearly  the  viva-  > 

city  of  his  gray  eyes.     The  animation  of  his  brown-  '^ 

colored  face,  the  curve  of  his  rather  strong  lips,  his  -., 

ears  standing  out,  his  turned-up  nose,  all  the  details 
of  his  physiognomy  betokened  the  jeering  mind  of 


A  START  IN  LIFE  6 1 

Figaro,  the  thoughtlessness  of  youth;  like  the  viva- 
city of  his  actions,  his  bantering  look  revealed  an 
intellect  already  developed  by  the  practice  of  a  pro- 
fession that  he  had  embraced  early  in  life.  As  if 
he  had  already  some  moral  value,  this  youth,  be- 
come a  man  by  art  or  vocation,  appeared  indifferent 
to  the  question  of  costume,  for  he  looked  at  his  un- 
polished shoes  with  the  air  of  poking  fun  at  them, 
and  his  ordinary  ticking  trousers  as  if  he  were  look- 
ing for  stains  on  them,  less  to  remove  them  than  to 
see  their  effect. 

"I'm  quite  high-toned!"  he  said  as  he  flung  him- 
self aside  and  addressed  his  companion. 

That  man's  look  betrayed  authority  over  this 
adept  in  whom  an  experienced  eye  would  have  de- 
tected that  joyous  pupil  in  painting  who  in  work- 
shop style  is  called  Si  grinder. 

"Have  some  style  about  you,  Mistigris!"  replied 
the  master  as  he  gave  him  the  surname  which  no 
doubt  the  workshop  had  imposed  upon  him. 

This  passenger  was  a  thin  and  pale  young  man, 
with  extremely  abundant  black  hair,  in  quite  fantas- 
tic disorder ;  but  this  abundant  hair  seemed  neces- 
sary to  an  enormous  head  whose  vast  forehead 
bespoke  a  precocious  intellect.  The  troubled  coun- 
tenance, too  original  to  be  ugly,  was  furrowed  as  if 
this  singular  young  man  was  suffering,  either  from 
a  chronic  malady  or  from  privations  imposed  by 
poverty,  which  is  a  terrible  chronic  malady,  or  from 
sorrow  too  recent  to  be  forgotten.  His  dress,  almost 
like    that    of    Mistigris,    every    proportion    being 


62  A  START  IN  LIFE 

observed,  consisted  of  a  mean,  well-worn  overcoat, 
but  clean,  well-brushed,  of  American  green  color;  a 
black  waistcoat  buttoned  up  very  high,  like  the 
overcoat,  and  which  scarcely  allowed  one  to  see  a 
red  silk  handkerchief  around  his  neck.  Black 
trousers,  as  badly  worn  out  as  the  overcoat,  flopped 
about  his  thin  legs.  In  fine,  dirty  boots  indicated 
that  he  had  come  on  foot  and  from  afar.  By  a  rapid 
glance  this  artist  took  in  the  depths  of  the  Lion 
d* Argent,  the  stables,  the  different  windows,  the 
details,  and  he  looked  at  Mistigris,  who  had  imi- 
tated him  by  an  ironical  glance. 

"Pretty!"  said  Mistigris. 

"Yes,  it  is  pretty,"  the  unknown  man  repeated. 

"We  have  arrived  too  soon  after  all,"  said  Misti- 
gris. "Couldn't  we  crunch  some  vegetable  or  other ! 
My  stomach  is  like  nature,  it  abhors  a  vacuum!" 

"Can  we  go  and  have  a  cup  of  coffee.?"  the 
young  man  asked  Pierrotin  in  a  mild  voice. 

"Don't  be  long,"  said  Pierrotin. 

"Good!  we  have  a  quarter  of  an  hour,"  Mistigris 
replied,  thus  betraying  the  genius  for  observation 
that  is  innate  in  the  Paris  grinders. 

These  two  travelers  disappeared.  Nine  o'clock 
then  struck  in  the  hotel  kitchen.  Georges  thought 
it  just  and  reasonable  to  apostrophize  Pierrotin. 

"Well,  my  friend,  when  one  enjoys  a  conditional 
skid  like  that,"  he  said  as  he  tapped  his  cane  on 
the  wheel,  "one  should  at  least  assume  the  merit 
of  punctuality.  The  devil !  one  does  not  get  him- 
self inside  there  for  comfort,  one  must  have  devilish 


'■t 


A  START  IN  LIFE  63 

pressing  business  to  entrust  his  bones  to  it  Then 
this  jade,  that  you  call  Rougeot,  will  never  make 
up  the  lost  time  for  us. " 

"We  are  going  to  yoke  Bichette  while  these  two 
passengers  are  having  their  coffee,"  Pierrotin  re- 
plied. "Go,  then,  you,"  he  said  to  the  agent,  "and 
see  if  old  Leger  wants  to  come  with  us — " 

"And  where  is  he,  this  old  Leger?"  asked 
Georges. 

"Opposite,  at  No.  50.  He  has  not  found  a  seat 
in  the  Beaumont  coach,"  said  Pierrotin  to  his  agent 
without  answering  Georges  and  disappearing  to  go 
and  get  Bichette. 

Georges,  whose  hand  his  friend  pressed,  got  into 
the  coach,  first  flinging  into  it,  with  an  air  of  im- 
portance, a  large  portfolio  that  he  placed  under  the 
cushion.  He  took  the  corner  opposite  to  that  which 
Oscar  filled. 

"This  old  Leger  makes  me  uneasy,"  he  said. 

"No  one  can  take  our  seats  from  us,  I  have  No. 
I,"  Oscar  replied. 

"And  I,  2,"  replied  Georges. 

At  the  same  time  as  Pierrotin  appeared  with 
Bichette,  the  agent  came  in  view,  bringing  in  tow  a 
stout  man  weighing  at  least  two  hundred  and  sixty- 
five  pounds.  Old  Leger  belonged  to  the  species  of 
farmers,  with  a  huge  paunch,  square  back,  pow- 
dered wig,  and  wearing  a  small  overcoat  of  blue 
linen-cloth.  His  white  gaiters,  reaching  above  the 
knee,  there  hugged  striped  velvet  breeches,  fastened 
by  silver  buckles.     His  hob-nailed  shoes  weighed 


64  A  START  IN  LIFE 

two  pounds  each.  Finally,  he  held  in  his  hand  a 
small  reddish  and  dry  stick,  polished,  with  a  thick 
end,  and  attached  by  a  leather  cord  around  his 
wrist. 

"Your  name  is  old  man  Leger?"  Georges  said 
seriously  when  the  farmer  tried  to  put  one  of  his 
feet  on  the  step.  ^ 

"At  your  service,"  said  the  farmer,  as  he  showed 
a  countenance  resembling  that  of  Louis  XVIII.,  with 
strong  rubicund  jowls,  from  between  which  peeped 
a  nose  that  on  any  other  face  would  have  seemed 
enormous.  His  laughing  eyes  were  pressed  by 
cushions  of  fat.  ^ 

"Come,  a  bold  stroke,  my  boy,"  said  he  to  Pier- 
rotin.  JS 

The  farmer  was  hoisted  in  by  the  agent  and  the 
carrier  to  the  cry  of  "Houp  la!  ahe!  hisse! — " 
uttered  by  Georges. 

"Oh!  I'm  not  going  far,  I'm  going  only  as  far  as 
La  Cave,"  said  the  farmer,  answering  one  pleas- 
antry with  another. 

In  France  everybody  understands  pleasantry. 

"Set  yourself  at  the  end,"  said  Pierrotin,  "you 
are  going  to  be  six." 

"And  your  other  horse?"  asked  Georges;  "is  he 
as  fanciful  as  a  third  post  horse?" 

"There,  city  swell,"  said  Pierrotin,  as  he  pointed 
with  a  gesture  to  the  little  mare  coming  all 
alone. 

"He  calls  that  insect  a  horse,"  retorted  Georges, 
astonished. 


1 


A  START  IN   LIFE  65 

"Oh!  he's  a  good  one,  that  little  horse  is,"  said 
the  farmer,  who  was  now  seated.  "We're  safe, 
gentlemen.     Are  we  going  to  weigh  anchor,  Pierro- 

tin?" 

"I  have  two  passengers  who  are  taking  their  cup 
of  coffee,"  the  coach-driver  replied. 

The  young  man  with  the  wrinkled  face  and  his 
grinder  then  made  their  appearance. 

"Let's  start!"  was  the  general  cry. 

"We  are  going  to  start,"  Pierrotin  replied. 
"Come,  let  us  weigh  anchor,"  he  said  to  the 
agent,  who  removed  the  stones  that  blocked  the 
wheels. 

The  carrier  took  Rougeot's  reins,  and  uttered  that 
guttural  cry  of  "Kit!  kit!"  to  tell  the  two  beasts  to 
gather  up  their  strength,  and,  though  evidently 
bedulied,  they  pulled  the  coach,  which  Pierrotin 
drew  up  in  front  of  the  Lion  d' Argent  gate.  After 
this  purely  preparatory  manoeuvre,  he  looked  along 
the  Rue  d'Enghien  and  disappeared,  leaving  his 
coach  in  the  agent's  charge. 

"Well,  is  he  subject  to  those  attacks,  that  city 
man  of  yours?"  Mistigris  asked  of  the  agent. 

"He  has  gone  to  take  his  oats  back  to  the  stable," 
replied  the  Auvergnat,  up  to  all  the  tricks  that  are 
used  to  try  the  passengers'  patience. 

"After  all,"  said  Mistigris,  "Experience  is  a  great 
faster." 

At  that  time  the  mangling  of  proverbs  was  in 
vogue  in  painters'  shops.     It  was  a  triumph  to  find 
a  change  of  a  few  letters  or  of  an  almost  similar 
5 


66  A  START  IN  LIFE 

word  that  lent  to  the  proverb  a  whimsical  or  ridicu- 
lous meaning. 

"Paris  was  not  built  in  a  bay,"  replied  the 
master. 

Pierrotin  returned  bringing  the  Comte  de  Serizy, 
coming  by  way  of  the  Rue  de  I'Echiquier,  and  with 
whom  no  doubt  he  had  had  a  few  minutes'  con- 
versation. 

"Old  man  Leger,  will  you  give  your  place  to  Mon- 
sieur le  Comte?  My  coach  would  be  more  evenly 
loaded." 

"And  we  will  not  start  for  an  hour  yet,  if  you 
continue,"  said  Georges.  "It  is  going  to  be  neces- 
sary to  remove  this  infernal  bar  that  it  was  so  hard 
to  put  in  place,  and  everybody  will  have  to  get  out 
for  a  passenger  who  comes  last.  Each  one  has  a 
right  to  the  seat  that  he  has  taken.  What  is  the 
gentleman's.?  Let's  see!  call  the  roll!  Have  you 
a  ticket?  Have  you  a  register?  What  is  Monsieur 
le  Comte's  place,  comte  of  what?" 

"Monsieur  le  Comte — ,"  said  Pierrotin,  visibly 
embarrassed,  "you  will  be  rather  uncomfortable." 

"You  didn't  know  your  comte,  then?"  Mistigris 
asked.     "Short  heckonings  make  long  friends." 

"Mistigris,  keep  on  your  behavior!"  gravely  ex- 
claimed his  master. 

Monsieur  de  Serizy  was  evidently  taken  by  all 
the  passengers  for  a  middle-class  man  whose  name 
was  Lecomte. 

"Do  not  disturb  anyone, "said  the  count  to  Pier- 
rotin, "I  will  sit  beside  you  on  the  front." 


A  START   IN   LIFE  67 

"Come,  Mistigris,"  said  the  young  man  to  the 
grinder,  "remember  the  respect  you  owe  to  old  age, 
you  do  not  know  how  fearfully  old  you  may  become 
yourself:  'Traveling  instructs /rw//^.'  So  give  up 
your  seat  to  the  gentleman." 

Mistigris  opened  the  front  of  the  cab  and  jumped 
up  with  the  agility  of  a  frog  bounding  into  the  water. 

"You  cannot  be  a  rabbit,  venerable  old  man," 
said  he  to  Monsieur  de  Serizy. 

"Mistigris,  art  is  the  friend  of  man, ^'  his  master 
replied  to  him. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  count  to  Mistigris's 
master,  who  thus  became  his  neighbor. 

And  the  statesman  cast  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
coach  a  sagacious  glance  that  greatly  offended 
Oscar  and  Georges. 

"We are  an  hour  and  a  quarter  late, "said  Oscar. 

"When  one  wants  to  be  master  of  a  coach,  one 
reserves  all  its  seats,"  Georges  observed. 

Henceforward,  sure  of  his  incognito,  the  Comte 
de  Serizy  made  no  answer  to  these  remarks,  and 
assumed  the  air  of  a  good-natured  bourgeois. 

"Suppose  you  were  late,  wouldn't  you  be  very 
glad  that  one  had  waited  for  you?"  said  the  farmer 
to  the  two  young  men. 

Pierrotin  looked  towards  the  Saint-Denis  gate, 
holding  his  whip,  and  he  hesitated  to  mount  on 
the  hard  bench  where  Mistigris  was  fidgeting. 

"If  you  are  waiting  for  anyone,"  the  count  then 
said,  "I  am  not  the  last." 

"I  approve  of  that  reasoning,"  said  Mistigris. 


68  A  START  IN   LIFE 

Georges  and  Oscar  started  laughing  rather  inso- 
lently. 

"The  old  man  is  not  strong,"  said  Georges  to 
Oscar,  whom  this  apparent  attachment  to  Georges 
del  ighted. 

When  Pierrotin  was  seated  to  the  right  on  his 
bench,  he  leaned  so  as  to  look  backwards,  but  could 
not  find  in  the  crowd  the  two  passengers  he  needed 
to  make  a  full  load. 

"Zounds!  two  more  passengers  wouldn't  go  badly 
with  me." 

"I  haven't  paid,  I'll  get  out,"  said  Georges, 
frightened. 

"And  whom  are  you  waiting  for,  Pierrotin.?"  said 
old  Leger. 

Pierrotin  called  out  a  certain  Hi!  in  which 
Bichette  and  Rougeot  recognized  a  final  resolve,  and 
the  two  horses  bounded  forth  toward  the  ascent  of 
the  faubourg  at  an  accelerated  pace  that  was  soon 
to  be  slackened. 

The  count  had  an  entirely  red  face,  but  of 
a  bright  red  still  further  heightened  by  some 
inflamed  portions,  and  which  his  absolutely  white 
hair  brought  out  in  relief.  To  other  than  young 
folks  this  tint  would  have  revealed  the  constant 
inflammation  of  the  blood  produced  by  exces- 
sive work.  These  buds  so  injured  the  count's 
noble  appearance  that  a  close  examination  was 
necessary  to  find  in  his  green  eyes  the  shrewdness 
of  the  magistrate,  the  depth  of  the  politician,  and 
the  knowledge  of  the  legislator.     The  face  was  flat. 


«! 


A  START   IN   LIFE  69 

the  nose  seemed  to  have  been  depressed.  The  hat 
concealed  the  grace  and  beauty  of  the  forehead.  In 
fine,  there  was  something  to  make  that  care-free 
youth  laugh  in  the  odd  contrast  of  silver- white  hair 
with  heavy  tufted  eyebrows  that  remained  black. 
The  count,  who  wore  a  long  blue  overcoat  buttoned 
to  the  throat,  in  military  fashion,  had  a  white  cravat 
around  his  neck,  cotton  in  his  ears,  and  a  rather 
ample  shirt-collar  sufficiently  high  to  outline  a  white 
square  on  each  cheek.  His  black  trousers  enveloped 
his  boots,  the  toes  of  which  could  scarcely  be  seen. 
He  had  no  decoration  in  his  buttonhole;  his  doe-skin 
gloves  concealed  his  hands.  Certainly,  to  young 
folks  nothing  betrayed  in  this  man  a  peer  of  France, 
one  of  the  men  most  useful  to  the  country.  Old 
Leger  had  never  seen  the  count,  who,  on  his  part, 
knew  him  only  by  name.  If  the  count,  on  getting 
into  the  coach,  cast  on  it  the  searching  glance  that 
had  just  shocked  Oscar  and  Georges,  he  was  look- 
ing there  for  his  notary's  clerk  so  as  to  ask  him  to 
observe  the  most  profound  silence,  in  case  he  should, 
like  himself,  have  to  take  the  Pierrotin  coach;  but, 
reassured  by  Oscar's  attitude,  by  that  of  old  Leger, 
and  especially  by  the  quasi-military  air,  the  mus- 
taches and  mannerisms  of  a  gentleman  who  lives  by 
his  wits,  that  distinguished  Georges,  he  thought 
that  his  note  had  no  doubt  arrived  in  time  at  Master 
Alexandre  Crottat's. 

"Old  man  Leger,"  said  Pierrotin  as  he  reached 
the  steep  hill  of  the  Faubourg  Saint-Denis  at  the 
Rue  de  la  Fidelite,  "let's  get  down,  eh?" 


70  A  START   IN   LIFE 

"I  get  down  also,"  said  the  count  as  he  heard 
this  name,  "it  is  necessary  to  relieve  your  horses." 

"Ah!  if  we  are  going  thus,  we  will  make  four- 
teen leagues  a  fortnight!"  Georges  exclaimed. 

"Is  it  my  fault?"  said  Pierrotin.  "A  passenger 
wants  to  get  out!" 

"Ten  louis  for  you,  if  you  faithfully  keep  for 
me  the  secret  that  I  have  asked  of  you,"  said  the 
count  in  a  low  voice  as  he  took  hold  of  Pierrotin's 
arm. 

"Oh!  my  thousand  francs,"  Pierrotin  said  within 
himself,  after  having  given  Monsieur  de  Serizy  a 
wink  that  meant:  "Count  on  me!" 

Oscar  and  Georges  remained  in  the  coach. 

"Listen,  Pierrotin,  as  Pierrotin  it  is,"  Georges 
exclaimed  when,  after  reaching  the  top  of  the  hill, 
the  passengers  had  taken  their  seats  again,  "if  you 
are  not  going  to  make  any  better  speed  than  this, 
say  so!  I  pay  for  my  seat  and  I  take  a  pony  at 
Saint-Denis,  for  I  have  important  business  that 
would  be  compromised  by  delay." 

"Oh!  it  will  go  all  right,"  old  Leger  replied. 
"And,  moreover,  the  road  is  not  wide." 

"Never  have  I  been  over  half  an  hour  late,"  re- 
plied Pierrotin. 

"In  fine,  you  are  not  trundling  the  Pope,  are 
you.?"  said  Georges;  "so,  go  ahead!" 

"You  owe  no  preference,  and  if  you  are  afraid  of 
jolting  the  gentleman  too  much,"  said  Mistigris  as 
he  pointed  to  the  count,  "it  is  not  right." 

"All  passengers  in  the  cuckoo  have  equal  rights, 


A  START  IN  LIFE  Jl 

just  as  Frenchmen  have  under  the  Charter,"  said 
Georges. 

"Don't  be  uneasy,"  said  old  Leger,  "we  will 
certainly  reach  La  Chapelle  before  noon." 

La  Chapelle  is  the  village  contiguous  to  the 
Saint-Denis  barrier. 


All  who  have  traveled  know  that  persons  brought 
together  by  chance  in  a  coach  do  not  all  at  once 
become  sociable  with  one  another;  and,  except 
under  rare  circumstances,  they  chat  only  after  hav- 
ing gone  a  little  distance.  This  time  of  silence  is 
taken  up  as  well  with  a  mutual  examination  as  with 
the  taking  possession  of  the  seat  to  which  one  is 
assigned.  The  soul  has  as  much  need  as  the  body 
of  finding  its  equilibrium.  When  each  one  thinks 
he  has  found  out  the  secret  of  the  real  age,  the  pro- 
fession and  the  character  of  his  companions,  the 
most  talkative  then  begins,  and  conversation  is  in- 
dulged in  with  so  much  the  more  zest  as  everybody 
has  felt  the  need  of  embellishing  the  journey  and 
relieving  its  tedium.  Things  happen  thus  in  French 
coaches.  With  other  nations  manners  are  quite 
different.  The  English  pride  themselves  on  not 
opening  their  mouths;  a  German  is  sombre  in  a 
coach,  and  an  Italian  is  too  prudent  to  chat;  the 
Spaniards  now  have  hardly  any  stage-coaches,  and 
the  Russians  have  no  roads.  People  amuse  them- 
selves, then,  only  in  the  heavy  coaches  of  France, 
in  this  country  so  babbling,  so  indiscreet,  where 
everybody  is  eager  to  laugh  and  show  his  wit, 
where  raillery  enlivens  everything,  from  the  mis- 
eries of  the  lower  classes  to  the  grave  interests  of 

(73) 


74  A  START  IN  LIFE 

the  solid  bourgeois.  Tlie  police,  besides,  there 
bridles  the  tongue  but  little,  and  the  tribune  has 
there  made  discussion  the  fashion.  When  a  young 
man  of  twenty -two,  like  him  who  was  concealed 
under  the  name  of  Georges,  has  wit,  he  is  exces- 
sively disposed,  especially  in  the  present  situation, 
to  abuse  it.  In  the  first  place,  Georges  had  soon 
decided  that  he  was  the  superior  being  of  this  as- 
semblage. He  saw  a  second-rate  manufacturer  in 
the  count,  whom  he  took  for  a  cutler ;  a  suspicious 
fellow  in  the  passably  comely  young  man  accom- 
panied by  Mistigris,  a  little  simpleton  in  Oscar, 
and  in  the  fat  farmer  an  excellent  personage  to 
mystify.  After  having  thus  taken  his  measures, 
he  resolved  to  amuse  himself  at  the  expense  of  his 
traveling  companions. 

"Let  us  see,"  he  said  to  himself  as  Pierrotin's 
cuckoo  was  going  down  from  La  Chapelle  to  dash 
into  the  Saint-Denis  plain,  "shall  1  make  myself 
pass  as  being  Etienne  or  Beranger? — No,  those  dolts 
are  not  people  who  would  know  either  one  of  them. 
A  Carbonaro? — The  devil!  I  might  get  myself 
into  trouble.  If  I  were  one  of  Marshal  Ney's  sons.? 
— Bah!  what  would  I  talk  to  them  about.-*  My 
father's  execution.  That  wouldn't  be  funny.  If  I 
were  returning  from  the  Champ  d'Asile? — They 
might  take  me  for  a  spy,  they  would  distrust  me. 
Let  me  be  a  disguised  Russian  prince,  I  am  going  to 
make  them  swallow  wonderful  tales  about  the  Em- 
peror Alexander — Suppose  I  pretended  to  be  Cousin, 
professor   of  philosophy? — O!     how   I   could   mix 


A  START  IN   LIFE  75 

them  all  up!  No,  that  suspicious-looking  fellow 
with  bushy  hair  appears  to  me  as  if  he  had  dragged 
his  boots  through  the  courts  of  the  Sorbonne.  Why 
didn't  1  think  of  making  them  start  sooner?  I  can 
imitate  the  English  so  well,  I  might  have  posed  as 
Lord  Byron,  traveling  incognito — Zounds!  I  missed 
my  chance.  To  be  the  executioner's  son? — That's 
a  madcap  idea  to  be  set  going  at  breakfast.  Oh  I 
good,  I  will  have  commanded  the  troops  of  Ali, 
Pasha  of  Janina." 

During  this  mental  soliloquy  the  coach  was  roll- 
ing through  waves  of  dust  that  incessantly  sent  up 
their  spray  from  the  low  sides  of  the  well-beaten 
road. 

"What  dust!"  said  Mistigris. 

"Henri  IV.  is  dead,"  his  companion  quickly  re- 
torted to  him.  "But  if  you  said  that  it  scents  of 
vanilla,  you  would  express  a  new  opinion." 

"You  think  you're  saying  something  funny," 
said  Mistigris;  "well,  that  reminds  me  occasionally 
of  vanilla." 

"In  the  Levant — "  said  Georges,  wanting  to  get 
up  a  story. 

"In  the  wind — levent — ,"  the  master  rejoined  to 
Mistigris,  interrupting  Georges. 

"I  say  in  the  Levant,  whence  I  am  returning," 
Georges  continued,  "dust  feels  all  right;  but  here 
it  feels  as  nothing  save  when  one  meets  with  a 
deposit  of  powdered  excrement  like  this." 

"The  gentleman  comes  from  the  Levant?"  said 
Mistigris  in  a  sly  tone. 


76  A  START  IN  LIFE 

"You  see  clearly  that  the  gentleman  is  so  fatigued 
that  he  has  taken  to  his  seat,"  his  master  replied  to 
him. 

"You  are  not  very  much  browned  by  the  sun," 
said  Mistigris. 

"Oh!  I  have  just  left  my  bed  after  an  illness  of 
three  months,  the  germ  of  which,  the  physicians 
say,  was  a  checked  pestilential  malady." 

"You  have  had  the  plague  ?"  the  count  exclaimed, 
as  he  affected  to  be  frightened.     "Pierrotin,  stop!" 

"Goon,  Pierrotin,"  said  Mistigris.  "You  have 
been  told  that  it  was  checked,  the  plague  was,"  he 
repeated,  addressing  Monsieur  de  Serizy.  "It's  a 
plague  that  passes  in  conversation." 

"One  of  those  plagues  of  which  we  say  'Plague 
on  it!'  "  the  master  exclaimed. 

"Or,  'Plague  on  the  middle-class!'"  Mistigris 
rejoined. 

"Mistigris!"  the  master  said,  "I  will  make  you 
walk  if  you  carry  on  so.  So,"  he  said  as  he  turned 
towards  Georges,  "the  gentleman  has  been  to  the 
East?" 

"Yes,  sir,  first  to  Egypt,  and  then  to  Greece, 
where  I  served  under  Ali,  Pasha  of  Janina,  with  f 

whom  I  had  a  terrible  experience.  One  cannot 
stand  those  climates.  And  so  the  emotions  of  every 
kind  that  are  incident  to  life  in  the  Orient  upset 
my  liver." 

"Ah!  you  were  in  the  service.?"  said  the  big 
farmer.     "How  old  are  you  ?" 

"I  am  twenty-nine,"  replied  Georges,  at  whom  'd 


A   START  IN   LIFE  ^^ 

all  the  passengers  stared.  "At  eighteen  1  set  out  as 
a  private  soldier  for  the  famous  campaign  of  1813; 
but  I  saw  only  the  fight  at  Hanau,  and  I  there  won 
the  rank  of  sergeant-major.  In  France,  at  Monte- 
reau,  I  was  made  sub-lieutenant,  and  1  was  deco- 
rated by — there  are  no  spies? — by  the  Emperor." 

"You  are  decorated,"  said  Oscar,  "and  don't 
wear  the  Cross?" 

"The  Cross  of  these  people? — Good-evening. 
Besides,  what  well-bred  man  will  wear  his  decora- 
tions when  traveling?  Look  at  that  gentleman," 
he  said  as  he  pointed  to  the  Comte  de  Serizy,  "I'll 
wager  as  much  as  you  please — " 

"To  bet  as  much  as  you  please  is  in  France  a 
way  of  betting  nothing  at  all,"  said  the  master  to 
Mistigris. 

"I  wager  all  you  wish,"  Georges  continued 
affectedly,  "that  this  gentleman  is  covered  with 
stars." 

"I  have,"  the  Comte  de  Serizy  replied  smiling, 
"that  of  the  Grand  Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor, 
that  of  St.  Andrew  of  Russia,  that  of  the  Eagle  of 
Prussia,  that  of  the  Annunziata  of  Sardinia,  and  that 
of  the  Golden  Fleece." 

"Pardon  me!"  said  Mistigris.  "And  all  that 
travels  in  the  cuckoo?" 

"Ah!  he's  all  right,  the  good  man  of  a  brick- 
color  is,"  Georges  whispered  in  Oscar's  ear. 
"Eh!  what  was  it  I  said  to  you?"  he  continued  in 
a  loud  voice.  "As  for  me,  I  do  not  conceal  it  at  all, 
I  adore  the  Emperor — " 


78  A  START  IN  LIFE 

"I  served  under  him,"  said  the  count. 

"What  a  man,  was  he  not?"  Georges  exclaimed. 

"A  man  to  whom  I  am  under  many  obligations," 
the  count  replied  with  a  simpleton  air  very  well 
put  on. 

"Your  crosses — "  said  Mistigris. 

"And  how  much  snuff  he  used!"  continued  Mon- 
sieur de  Serizy. 

"Oh!  he  carried  it  in  his  pockets,  even,"  said 
Georges. 

"I  have  been  told  that,"  old  Leger  interjected  in 
an  almost  incredulous  tone. 

"Nay,  more  than  that,  he  chewed  and  smoked," 
continued  Georges.  "I  saw  him  smoking,  and  in 
such  a  funny  way,  at  Waterloo,  when  Marshal  Soult 
took  him  in  his  arms  and  threw  him  into  his  car- 
riage, just  as  he  had  clutched  a  gun  and  was  going 
to  charge  the  English! — " 

"You  were  at  Waterloo?"  remarked  Oscar,  whose 
eyes  stared. 

"Yes,  young  man,  I  took  part  in  the  campaign  of 
1815.  I  was  captain  at  Mont-Saint- Jean,  and  I  fell 
back  on  the  Loire,  when  we  were  disbanded. 
Faith!  France  disgusted  me,  and  I  couldn't  rest  in 
it.  No,  I  would  have  got  myself  into  trouble.  And 
so  1  departed  with  two  or  three  jolly  fellows, 
Selves,  Besson  and  others,  who  are  now  in  Egypt, 
in  the  service  of  Mohammed  Pasha,  a  funny-looking 
fellow,  see!  Formerly  a  mere  tobacco  dealer  at  La 
Cavalle,  he  is  on  the  way  to  become  sovereign 
prince.     You   have   seen   him    in  Horace  Vernet's 


A  START  IN  LIFE  79 

painting,  The  Massacre  of  the  Mamelukes.  Wliat  a 
handsome  man !  As  for  me,  I  did  not  want  to  give 
up  the  religion  of  my  fathers  and  embrace  Islamism, 
so  much  the  more  as  abjuration  entails  a  surgical 
operation  for  which  I  do  not  care  at  all.  Then  no 
one  holds  a  renegade  in  esteem.  Ah !  if  they  had 
offered  me  a  hundred  thousand  francs  income,  per- 
haps— and  still! — no.  The  pasha  made  me  a 
present  of  a  thousand  talari — " 

"What's  that?"  asked  Oscar,  who  was  listening 
with  his  ears  all  attention. 

*'Oh!  not  very  much.  The  talaro  is  about  what 
we  would  call  a  hundred-sou  piece.  And,  faith,  I 
did  not  get  the  interest  on  the  vices  that  I  contracted 
in  that  God-forsaken  country,  if  indeed  it  is  a 
country.  I  can  no  longer  do  without  smoking  the 
narguileh  twice  a  day,  and  that  is  expensive — " 

"And  how,  then,  is  Egypt?"  Monsieur  de  Serizy 
asked. 

"Egypt  is  all  sand,"  Georges  replied,  not  at  all 
nonplussed.  "There  is  no  green  except  in  the  valley 
of  the  Nile.  Draw  a  green  line  on  a  yellow  sheet 
of  paper,  that's  Egypt.  The  Egyptians,  for  exam- 
ple, the  fellahs  have  an  advantage  over  us,  there 
are  no  gendarmes.  Oh!  you  might  do  all  Egypt 
and  you  wouldn't  see  one." 

"I  suppose  there  are  many  Egyptians,"  said 
Mistigris. 

"Not  so  many  as  you  think,"  Georges  replied; 
"there  are  many  more  Abyssinians,  Giaours,  Vech- 
abites,    Bedouins    and    Copts — In    fine,    all    those 


80  A  START  IN  LIFE 

animals  are  so  uninteresting  that  I  was  very  happy 
on  embarking  on  a  Genoese  polaque  that  was  going 
to  the  Ionian  Islands  to  take  on  a  cargo  of  powder  and 
munitions  for  Ali  of  Tebelen.  You  know  that  the 
English  sell  powder  and  munitions  to  everybody,  to 
the  Turks,  to  the  Greeks;  they  would  sell  them  to 
the  devil  if  the  devil  had  money.  So,  from  Zante 
we  had  to  tack  along  the  coast  of  Greece.  Such  as 
you  see  me,  my  name  Georges  is  famous  in  those 
countries.  I  am  the  grandson  of  that  celebrated 
Czerni-Georges  who  made  war  on  the  Porte,  and 
who,  unfortunately,  instead  of  burying  it,  was  him- 
self buried.  His  son  took  refuge  in  the  house  of 
the  French  consul  at  Smyrna,  and  he  came  to  die  in 
Paris  in  1792,  leaving  my  mother  pregnant  of  me, 
her  seventh  child.  All  our  property  was  stolen  by 
one  of  my  grandfather's  friends,  so  that  we  were 
ruined.  My  mother,  who  lived  on  the  money  she 
got  for  her  diamonds,  which  she  sold  one  by  one,  in 
1799  married  Monsieur  Yung,  my  step-father,  a  pur- 
veyor. But  my  mother  is  dead,  and  I  have  quar- 
reled with  my  step-father,  who,  between  ourselves, 
is  a  scoundrel ;  he  is  still  living,  but  we  do  not  see 
each  other.  That  cur  left  all  seven  of  us  without 
as  much  as  saying:  'Are  you  a  dog.?  Are  you  a 
wolf?'  That  is  why,  in  despair,  I  set  out  in  181 3 
as  a  simple  conscript — You  would  not  believe  with 
what  joy  that  old  Ali  of  Tebelen  received  Czerni- 
Georges'  grandson.  Here,  I  have  myself  simply 
called  Georges.  The  pasha  gave  me  a  seraglio — " 
"You  had  a  seraglio?"  said  Oscar. 


A  START  IN  LIFE  8 1 

*'Were  you  a  many-tailed  pasha?"  Mistigris 
asked. 

"How  is  it  you  don't  know,"  Georges  continued, 
"that  it  is  only  tlie  Sultan  who  makes  pashas,  and 
that  my  friend  Tebelen,  for  we  were  friends  like 
Bourbons,  revolted  against  the  Padishah!  You 
know,  or  you  do  not  know,  that  the  Grand  Signer's 
title  is  Padishah,  and  not  Grand  Turk  or  Sultan. 
Do  not  think  that  this  seraglio  is  much  of  a  thing; 
you  might  as  well  have  a  flock  of  goats.  Those 
women  are  very  stupid,  and  I  would  rather  a  hun- 
dred times  have  the  Chaumiere  damsels  of  Mont- 
par  nasse." 

"That  is  nearer  at  hand,"  said  the  Comte  de 
Serizy. 

"The  seraglio  women  do  not  know  a  word  of 
French,  and  language  is  indispensable  to  mutual 
understanding.  Ali  gave  me  five  lawful  wives  and 
ten  slaves.  At  Janina  it  was  as  if  I  had  had  noth- 
ing. In  the  Orient,  you  see,  to  have  wives  is  very 
bad  form,  they  have  them  as  we  here  have  Voltaire 
and  Rousseau ;  but  who  ever  opens  his  Voltaire  or 
his  Rousseau  .-•  Nobody.  And  yet  the  best  form  is 
to  be  jealous.  One  sews  up  a  woman  in  a  bag  and 
throws  her  into  the  water  on  mere  suspicion,  in 
accordance  with  an  article  of  their  code." 

"Did  you  throw  in  any,?"  the  farmer  asked. 

"I!  fie  on  you,  a  Frenchman!  I  loved  them." 

At  this  point  Georges  curled  again  and  turned  up 
his  mustaches  and  assumed  a  dreamy  air.  They 
were  entering  Saint-Denis,  where  Pierrotin  stopped 

6 


82  A  START  IN   LIFE 

before  the  door  of  the  innkeeper  who  sells  the 
famous  cheese-cakes  and  where  all  the  passengers 
get  out.  Puzzled  by  the  appearances  of  truth  mixed 
with  Georges'  pleasantries,  the  count  got  back  into 
the  coach  at  once,  looked  under  the  cushion  for  the 
portfolio  that  Pierrotin  told  him  had  been  put  there 
by  this  enigmatic  personage,  and  read  in  gilt  letters : 
"Master  Crottat,  notary."  The  count  at  once  took 
the  liberty  of  opening  the  portfolio,  fearing  with 
good  reason  lest  old  Leger  might  be  seized  with  like 
curiosity;  he  took  out  of  it  the  deed  that  concerned 
the  Moulineaux  farm,  folded  it,  put  it  in  the  inside 
breast  pocket  of  his  overcoat,  and  returned  to  ex- 
amine the  passengers. 

"This  Georges  is  none  other  than  Crottat's 
second  clerk.  I  will  pay  my  respects  to  his 
employer,  who  was  to  have  sent  me  his  first 
clerk,"  he  said  to  himself. 

By  the  respectful  bearing  of  old  Leger  and  Oscar, 
Georges  understood  that  he  had  fervent  admirers  in 
them;  he  posed  naturally  as  a  great  lord,  he  treated 
them  to  cheese-cakes  and  a  glass  of  Alicante  wine, 
as  he  did  also  Mistigris  and  his  master,  taking  ad- 
vantage of  this  liberality  to  ask  them  their  names. 

"Oh!  sir,"  said  Mistigris's  master,  "I  am  not 
favored  with  an  illustrious  name  like  yours,  I  am 
not  returning  from  Asia." 

At  that  moment  the  count,  who  had  hurried  to 
enter  the  innkeeper's  immense  kitchen,  so  as  not  to 
give  rise  to  any  suspicion  regarding  his  discovery, 
was  able  to  hear  the  closing  words  of  this  answer; 


A  START  IN  LIFE  83 

** — I  am  merely  a  poor  painter  returning  from 
Rome,  whither  I  went  at  the  expense  of  the  Govern- 
ment, after  having  won  the  grand  prize,  five  years 
ago.     My  name  is  Schinner. " 

"Eh!  city  swell,  may  we  offer  you  a  glass  of 
Alicante  and  some  cheese-cakes?"  said  Georges  to 
the  comte. 

"Thanks,"  said  the  count,  "I  never  go  out  with- 
out having  taken  my  cup  of  coffee  with  cream." 

"And  you  eat  nothing  between  meals?  How  like 
Marais,  Place  Royale  and  He  Saint-Louis!"  said 
Georges.  "When  he  was  humbugging  a  while  ago 
about  his  crosses,  I  thought  him  stronger  than  he 
is,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice  to  the  painter;  "but  we 
will  get  on  to  him  again  about  his  decorations  in- 
deed, the  little  candle-maker.  Come,  my  good  fel- 
low," he  said  to  Oscar,  "quaff  for  me  the  glass 
poured  out  for  the  grocer,  it  will  make  your  mus- 
tache grow." 

Oscar  wanted  to  play  the  man,  he  drank  the 
second  glass  and  ate  three  more  cheese-cakes. 

"Good  wine,"  said  old  Leger  as  he  smacked  his 
tongue  against  the  roof  of  his  mouth. 

"It  is  so  much  the  better,"  said  Georges,  "as  it 
comes  from  Bercy!  I've  been  to  Alicante,  and,  do 
you  see,  it  is  as  much  wine  of  that  country  as  my 
arm  resembles  a  windmill.  Our  imitation  wines 
are  much  better  than  the  natural  wines.  Come, 
Pierrotin,  a  glass? — Eh!  It  is  a  great  pity  your 
horses  can't  sniff  one  each,  we  would  go  much 
faster." 


84  A  START  IN  LIFE 


t't 


'Oh!  that's  not  the  trouble,  I  have  already  a 
groggy  horse,"  said  Pierrotin  as  he  pointed  to 
Bichette. 

On  hearing  this  vulgar  pun,  Oscar  thought  Pier- 
rotin a  great  fellow. 

"Away  we  go!" 

This  expression  of  Pierrotin's  sounded  amid 
whip-cracking,  when  the  passengers  got  into  their 
cage  again. 

It  was  then  eleven  o'clock.  The  weather,  that 
had  been  a  little  cloudy,  became  clear,  the  wind 
overhead  drove  away  the  clouds,  the  ethereal  blue 
was  seen  in  spots;  and  so,  when  the  Pierrotin 
coach  dashed  out  on  the  narrow  ribbon  of  a  road 
that  runs  from  Saint-Denis  to  Pierrefitte,  the  sun 
had  completely  dispelled  the  last  slight  vapors 
whose  diaphanous  veil   enveloped  the  country  in  j. 

those  famous  precincts. 

"Well,  why,  then,  did  you  leave  your  friend  the 
pasha.?"  old  Leger  asked  Georges. 

"He  was  a  strange  wag,"  Georges  answered  with 
an  air  that  concealed  many  mysteries.     "Picture  to  .v 

yourself  his  giving  me  his  cavalry  to  command — 
very  well." 

"Ah!  that  is  why  he  wears  spurs,"  poor  Oscar 
thought. 

"In  my  time  AH  of  Tebelen  had  to  get  rid  of 
Chosrew-Pasha,  another  droll  swaggerer.  You  call 
him  here  Chaureff,  but  his  name  in  Turkish  is  pro- 
nounced Cossereu.  You  must  have  read  formerly 
in  the  newspapers  that  old  Ali  thrashed  Chosrew, 


I 


t 


A  START   IN   LIFE  85 

and  that  soundly.  Well,  without  me  AH  of  Tebelen 
would  have  been  whipped  some  days  sooner.  I  was 
at  the  right  wing  and  I  saw  Chosrew,  an  artful  old 
fellow,  breaking  into  our  centre — oh!  there! 
straightway  and  by  a  clever  manoeuvre  in  the 
Murat  fashion.  Good!  I  bide  my  time,  I  make  a 
headlong  dash,  and  cut  in  two  Chosrew's  column, 
which  had  passed  the  centre  and  remained  exposed. 
You  understand— Ah !  forsooth,  after  the  affair  Ali 
embraced  me — " 

"They  do  that  in  the  East.?"  said  the  Comte  de 
Serizy  in  a  jovial  way. 

"Yes,  sir,"  the  painter  replied,  "that's  done 
everywhere." 

"We  drove  Chosrew  back  over  thirty  leagues  of 
country — as  in  a  hunt,  think!"  Georges  continued. 
"They  are  accomplished  horsemen,  are  those  Turks. 
Ali  gave  me  yataghans,  guns  and  scimitars! — do 
you  want  them !  there  they  are.  On  returning  to 
his  capital,  this  devilish  buffoon  made  me  proposi- 
tions that  did  not  suit  me  at  all.  Those  Orientals 
are  funny  fellows  when  they  have  an  idea — Ali 
wanted  me  to  be  his  favorite,  his  heir.  As  for  me, 
I  had  had  enough  of  that  sort  of  life;  for,  after 
all,  Ali  of  Tebelen  was  in  rebellion  against  the 
Porte,  and  I  deemed  it  prudent  to  take  to  the  port. 
But  1  will  do  justice  to  Monsieur  de  Tebelen,  he 
loaded  me  with  presents — diamonds,  ten  thousand 
talari,  a  thousand  gold  pieces,  a  Greek  belle  for 
grcom,  a  little  Arnaut  girl  for  companion,  and  an 
Arab  steed.     Well,  Ali,  Pasha  of  Janina,  is  a  much 


86  A  START  IN   LIFE 

misunderstood  man,  he  ought  to  have  a  historian. 
It  is  only  in  the  Orient  that  one  meets  with  those 
souls  of  bronze  that  for  twenty  years  do  everything 
to  be  able  to  avenge  an  offence  some  fine  morning. 
In  the  first  place,  he  had  the  finest  white  beard  that 
one  could  see,  a  hard,  severe  countenance — " 

"But  what  have  you  done  with  your  treasures.-"' 
asked  old  Leger. 

"Ah!  that's  it.  Those  folks  have  no  national 
securities  or  Bank  of  France,  and  I  accordingly 
carried  my  pickings  away  on  a  Greek  tartan  that 
was  seized  by  the  pasha-captain  himself!  Just  as 
you  see  me,  I  came  near  being  gibbeted  at  Smyrna. 
Yes,  on  my  word,  without  Monsieur  de  Riviere,  the 
ambassador,  who  was  there  at  the  time,  they  would 
have  taken  me  for  an  accomplice  of  Ali-Pasha.  I 
saved  my  head,  if  I  may  honestly  say  so,  but  the 
ten  thousand  talari,  the  thousand  gold  pieces,  the 
arms,  oh!  all  were  swallowed  up  by  the  captain- 
pasha's  thirsty  treasury.  My  position  was  so  much 
the  more  difficult  as  that  captain-pasha  was  no  other 
than  Chosrew.  Since  his  drubbing  the  funny  fel- 
low had  obtained  this  place,  which  was  equivalent 
to  that  of  grand  admiral  of  France." 

"But  he  was  in  the  cavalry,  as  it  appears?"  said 
old  Leger,  who  was  attentively  following  Georges' 
narrative. 

"Oh!  how  clear  it  is  that  little  is  known  of  the 
Orient  in  the  department  of  Seine-et-Oise!"  ex- 
claimed Georges.  "The  Turks  are  like  this,  sir: 
you  are  a  farmer,  the  padishah  appoints  you  marshal ; 


A  START   IN   LIFE  87 

if  you  do  not  fill  your  office  satisfactorily,  so  much 
the  worse  for  you,  off  goes  your  head :  that's  his 
way  of  getting  rid  of  office-holders.  A  gardener 
becomes  prefect,  and  a  prime  minister  becomes  a 
messenger  once  more.  The  Ottomans  know  noth- 
ing of  the  law  of  promotion  or  of  hierarchy!  From 
being  a  cavalier,  Chosrew  had  become  a  marine. 
Padishah  Mahmoud  had  commissioned  him  to  attack 
AH  by  sea,  and  indeed  he  made  himself  master  of 
him,  but  by  the  aid  of  the  English,  who  have  had 
the  lion's  share,  the  rascals!  they  seized  the  treas- 
ures. This  Chosrew,  who  had  not  forgotten  the 
lesson  in  horse-riding  that  I  taught  him,  recognized 
me.  You  understand  that  it  was  all  over  with  me, 
oh!  quick!  if  it  had  not  occurred  to  me  to  place 
myself  under  Monsieur  de  Riviere's  protection  as  a 
Frenchman  and  a  troubadour.  The  ambassador, 
only  too  glad  to  show  his  hand,  demanded  my  being 
set  at  liberty.  There  is  this  to  be  said  of  the  char- 
acter of  the  Turks,  that  they  let  you  go  as  easily  as 
they  cut  off  your  head,  they  are  indifferent  to  every- 
thing. The  French  consul,  a  charming  man,  a  friend 
of  Chosrew,  had  two  thousand  talari  returned  to 
me;  and  so  his  name,  I  need  hardly  say,  is  graven 
in  my  heart — " 

"You  call  him?"  Monsieur  de  Serizy  asked. 

Monsieur  de  Serizy  allowed  indications  of  aston- 
ishment to  play  on  his  countenance  when  Georges 
indeed  gave  him  the  name  of  one  of  our  most  noted 
consuls-general,  who  was  then  at  Smyrna. 

"I  may  say,  parenthetically,  that  I  witnessed  the 


88  A  START  IN  LIFE 

execution  of  the  commanding  officer  at  Smyrna, 
whom  the  padishah  had  ordered  Chosrew  to  put  to 
death,  one  of  the  most  curious  things  that  I  have 
seen,  and  I  have  seen  many  strange  happenings;  I 
will  tell  you  of  it  later  on,  while  at  lunch.  From 
Smyrna  1  went  to  Spain,  on  learning  that  a  revolu- 
tion was  in  progress  there.  Oh!  I  went  direct  to 
Mina,  who  tooi<  me  as  aide-de-camp,  and  gave  me 
the  rank  of  colonel.  I  fought  for  the  constitutional 
cause  that  is  going  to  succumb,  for  we  are  going  to 
enter  Spain  one  of  these  days." 

"And  you  are  a  French  officer.'"'  the  Comte  de 
Serizy  said  to  him  severely.  "You  are  depending  a 
great  deal  on  the  discretion  of  those  who  are  listen- 
ing to  you!" 

"But  there  are  no  spies  here,"  said  Georges. 

"You  are  not  aware,  then.  Colonel  Georges," 
said  the  count,  "that  just  now  the  court  of  peers  is 
trying  a  conspiracy  case,  that  is  making  the  Govern- 
ment very  strict  in  regard  to  soldiers  who  bear  arms 
against  France,  and  who  hatch  intrigue  abroad  with 
the  design  of  overthrowing  our  lawful  sovereigns  ? — " 

At  this  terrible  remark,  the  painter  blushed  even 
to  his  ears,  and  looked  at  Mistigris,  who  seemed 
dumfounded. 

"Well,"  said  old  Leger,  "after  that?" 

"If,  for  example,  I  were  a  magistrate,  wouldn't 
it  be  my  duty,"  the  count  replied,  "to  have  Mina's 
aide-de-camp  arrested  by  the  gendarmes  of  the 
Pierrefitte  brigade,  and  to  summon  as  witnesses  all 
the  passengers  who  are  in  the  coach — " 


A  START   IN   LIFE  89 

These  words  so  much  the  more  effectively  cut 
Georges'  speech  short  as  they  were  just  coming  up 
to  the  gendarme  brigade,  whose  white  flag  was 
floating  in  the  breeze,  as  the  classic  phrase  has  it. 

"You  have  too  many  decorations  to  allow  your- 
self to  do  such  a  mean  thing,"  said  Oscar. 

"We're  going  to  get  it  back  on  him,"  Georges 
whispered  in  Oscar's  ear. 

"Colonel,"  exclaimed  Leger,  who  was  worried  at 
the  Comte  de  Serizy's  sally  and  wanted  to  change 
the  conversation,  "in  the  countries  to  which  you 
have  been,  how  do  people  farm  there?  What  is 
their  rotation  of  crops?" 

"In  the  first  place,  you  understand,  my  good  man, 
that  those  folks  are  too  busy  manuring  themselves 
to  manure  their  fields — " 

The  count  could  not  help  smiling.  That  smile 
gave  confidence  to  the  story-teller. 

"But  they  have  a  way  of  cultivating  that  will 
seem  funny  to  you.  They  do  not  cultivate  at  all, 
that  is  their  way  of  cultivating.  Whether  Turk  or 
Greek,  they  eat  onions  or  rice — They  get  opium 
from  their  corn-poppies,  which  brings  them  large 
revenues ;  and  then,  they  have  tobacco  that  grows 
spontaneously,  latakia!  then  dates!  a  host  of  sweet 
things  that  grow  without  cultivation.  It  is  a  coun- 
try full  of  resources  and  of  commerce.  They  make 
a  great  many  rugs  at  Smyrna,  and  not  at  all  dear." 

"But,"  said  Leger,  "rugs  are  made  of  wool, 
which  we  get  only  from  sheep;  and  to  have  sheep 
we  must  have  grazing,  farms,  cultivation." 


1 


90  A  START  IN  LIFE 

"There  must  indeed  be  something  like  that," 
Georges  replied;  "but  rice  grows  in  water,  in  the 
first  place;  then,  as  for  me,  I  have  always  been 
along  the  coast,  and  have  seen  only  countries  rav- 
aged by  war.  Moreover,  I  have  the  greatest  aver- 
sion to  statistics." 

"And  the  tariff.?"  said  old  Leger. 

"Ah!  the  taxes  are  heavy.  One  takes  every- 
thing from  them,  but  leaves  them  the  rest.  Struck 
by  the  advantages  of  this  system,  the  pasha  of  Egypt 
was  on  the  fair  way  to  organizing  his  administration 
on  that  system  when  I  left  him." 

"And  how.-""  said  old  Leger,  who  no  longer  under- 
stood anything. 

"How .-'"  Georges  continued.  "But  he  has  agents 
who  take  the  crops,  leaving  to  the  fellahs  just 
enough  to  live  on.  And  so,  in  that  system,  there 
are  no  dusty  old  papers,  there  is  no  bureaucracy, 
the  plague  of  France — Ah!  that's  it!" 

"But  by  virtue  of  what.?"  said  the  farmer. 

"It  is  a  country  of  despotism,  that's  all.  Don't 
you  know  the  fme  definition  of  despotism  given  by 
Montesquieu:  'Like  the  savage,  it  cuts  the  tree 
close  to  the  ground  so  as  to  have  its  fruit' — " 

"And  they  would  bring  us  to  that,"  said  Mis- 
tigris;  "but,  *  a  burnt  child  dreads  the  mire.*  " 

"And  people  will  come  to  that,"  the  Comte  de 
Serizy  exclaimed.  "And  so  those  who  own  land 
will  do  well  to  sell  it.  Monsieur  Schinner  must 
have  seen  how  things  are  coming  to  that  in  Italy." 

"Corpo  di  Bacco!  the  Pope  does  not  proceed  there 


«l 


A  START  IN  LIFE  QI 

by  mortmain!"  Schinner  replied.  "But  they  are 
used  to  it.  The  Italians  are  such  a  good  people! 
Provided  we  leave  them  a  little  liberty  to  assassin- 
ate travelers  on  the  road,  they  are  satisfied." 

"But,"  continued  the  count,  "no  longer  do  you 
wear  the  decoration  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  which 
you  got  in  1819;  it's  a  general  custom,  then?" 

Mistigris  and  the  false  Schinner  blushed  back  to 
their  ears. 

"I!  that's  different,"  Schinner  replied,  "1  would 
not  want  to  be  known.  Don't  betray  me,  sir.  I 
am  thought  to  be  an  obscure  painter  of  no  conse- 
quence, I  pass  for  a  decorator.  I  am  going  to  a 
chateau  where  I  am  not  to  arouse  any  suspicion." 

"Ah !"  remarked  the  count,  "a  piece  of  good  luck, 
an  intrigue  ? — Oh !  you  are  very  fortunate  in  being 
young — " 

Oscar,  who  was  chagrined  at  being  noth- 
ing and  at  having  nothing  to  say,  looked  at 
Colonel  Czerni-Georges  and  the  great  painter 
Schinner,  and  tried  to  metamorphose  himself  into  a 
somebody.  But  what  could  a  boy  of  nineteen  be, 
whom  they  were  sending  for  two  or  three  weeks 
into  the  country,  to  the  manager  of  Presles.?  The 
Alicante  wine  was  going  to  his  head,  and  his  pride 
made  his  blood  boil  in  his  veins;  and  so,  when  the 
false  Schinner  let  in  some  light  on  his  romantic  ad- 
venture, whose  happiness  was  to  be  as  great  as  his 
danger,  he  fixed  on  him  his  eyes,  sparkling  with 
rage  and  envy. 

"Ah!"    said    the    count   with   an   envious   and 


92  A  START  IN  LIFE 

credulous  air,  "you  must  indeed  love  a  woman  to 
make  such  enormous  sacrifices  for  her — " 

"What  sacrifices?"  remarked  Mistigris, 

"Don't  you  know,  then,  my  little  friend,  that  a 
ceiling  painted  by  so  great  a  master  is  covered  with 
gold?"  the  count  replied.  "Let  us  see!  The  Civil 
List  pays  you  thirty  thousand  francs  for  those  of 
two  halls  of  the  Louvre,"  he  continued,  as  he  looked 
at  Schinner ;  "for  a  man  of  the  middle-class,  as  you 
say  of  us  in  your  workshops,  a  ceiling  is  indeed 
worth  twenty  thousand  francs:  now  one  will 
scarcely  give  two  thousand  to  an  obscure  decorator. " 

"The  less  money  is  not  the  greatest  loss,"  Mis- 
tigris replied.  "Think,  then,  that  it  will  certainly 
be  a  masterpiece,  and  that  it  must  not  be  signed  so 
as  not  to  compromise  her!" 

"Ah!  I  would  indeed  give  back  all  my  crosses  to 
all  the  sovereigns  of  Europe,  to  be  loved  as  is  that 
young  man  in  whom  love  inspires  such  devoted- 
ness!"  exclaimed  Monsieur  de  Serizy. 

"Ah!  that's  it,"  Mistigris  replied,  "one  is  young, 
one  is  loved!  one  has  women,  and,  as  the  saying  is, 
'Store  is  no  bore.'  " 

"And  what  does  Madame  Schinner  say  to  that?" 
the  count  rejoined,  "for  from  love  you  have  married 
the  pretty  Adelaide  de  Rouville,  the  protegee  of  old 
Admiral  de  Kergarouet,  who  got  for  you  your  ceil- 
ings at  the  Louvre  through  his  nephew,  the  Comte 
de  Fontaine." 

"Is  a  great  painter  ever  married  when  on  a 
journey?"  remarked  Mistigris. 


A  START  IN  LIFE  Q3 

"See  then,  the  morality  of  the  studio!"  the  Comte 
de  Serizy  innocently  remarked. 

"Is  the  morality  of  the  courts  from  which  you  got 
your  decorations  any  better  ?"  said  Schinner,  who 
recovered  his  coolness  that  was  momentarily  dis- 
turbed by  the  knowledge  that  the  count  showed  he 
possessed,  of  the  contracts  awarded  to  Schinner. 

"I  didn't  ask  for  a  single  one  of  them,"  the  count 
replied,  "and  1  believe  I  honestly  earned  them  all." 

"And  so  you  'make  assurance  doubly  poor,'  " 
Mistigris  replied. 

Monsieur  de  Serizy  did  not  want  to  betray  him- 
self, and  so  he  assumed  an  air  of  simplicity  as  he 
looked  over  the  valley  of  Groslay,  which  opens  up 
as  one  takes,  at  Patte-d'Oie,  the  Saint-Brice  road, 
leaving  that  of  Chantilly  on  the  right. 

"A  take-in!"  said  Oscar  grumbling. 

"Is  it  as  beautiful  as  people  pretend,  Rome,  I 
mean.?"  Georges  asked  of  the  great  painter. 

"Rome  is  beautiful  only  to  people  who  love,  one 
must  have  a  passion  to  be  pleased  there;  but  as  a 
city  I  prefer  Venice,  though  I  came  near  being  as- 
sassinated there." 

"Faith,  without  me, "said  Mistigris,  "you'd  have 
swallowed  the  bait  nicely!  'Twas  that  devilish 
buffoon.  Lord  Byron,  that  got  you  that.  Oh !  that 
stupid  dolt  of  an  Englishman  must  have  been  a 
madman!" 

"Sht!"  said  Schinner,  "I  don't  want  any  one  to 
know  of  my  affair  with  Lord  Byron." 

"You  must  acknowledge  just  the  same,"  Mistigris 


94  A  START  IN  LIFE 

replied,  "how  lucky  it  was  for  you  that  I  had  learned 
how  to  wield  the  slipper?" 

From  time  to  time,  Pierrotin  exchanged  with  the 
Comte  de  Serizy  strange  looks  that  would  have  dis- 
turbed people  slightly  less  experienced  than  were 
the  five  passengers. 

"Lords,  pashas,  ceilings  at  thirty  thousand  francs! 
Ah,  there!"  exclaimed  the  L'Isle-Adam  carrier, 
"I  am  drawing  sovereigns  to-day,  then?  What 
tips!" 

"Without  counting  that  the  seats  are  paid  for," 
shrewdly  remarked  Mistigris. 

"That  comes  to  me  in  good  stead,"  Pierrotin  re- 
joined; "for,  old  man  Leger,  you  know  all  about  my 
fine  new  coach  on  which  I  have  given  two  thousand 
francs  earnest — Well,  those  scamps  of  carriage- 
builders,  to  whom  I  must  count  out  two  thousand 
five  hundred  francs  to-morrow,  don't  want  to  accept 
a  payment  of  fifteen  hundred  francs  and  take  my 
note  for  a  thousand  francs  for  two  months ! — Those 
screws  want  all.  To  be  hard  on  this  point  with  a 
man  who  has  been  established  for  eight  years,  with 
a  father  of  a  family,  and  to  put  him  in  danger  of 
losing  everything,  both  money  and  coach,  if  1  don't 
find  a  miserable  note  for  a  thousand  francs !  Whew ! 
Bichette. — They  wouldn't  play  such  a  trick  on  the 
big  concerns." 

"Ah!  marry;  'No  penny,  r\o  pass,' ''  said  the 
grinder. 

"You  have  only  eight  hundred  francs  to  scrape 
up,"    the     count     replied,    seeing     in     this     wail 


A   START   IN   LIFE  95 

addressed  to  old  Leger,  a  sort  of  bill  of  exchange 
drawn  on  him. 

"That's  true,"  rejoined  Pierrotin.  "Get  up! 
Rougeot " 

"You  must  have  seen  some  fine  ceilings  at 
Venice,"  continued  the  count,  addressing  Schinner. 

"I  was  too  much  in  love  to  pay  attention  to 
what  then  seemed  to  me  to  be  only  trifles," 
Schinner  replied.  "I  was,  however,  to  be  thor- 
oughly cured  of  love,  for  in  the  same  Venetian 
states,  in  Dalmatia,  I  was  taught  a  severe  lesson." 

"May  it  be  mentioned.?"  Georges  asked.  "1 
know  Dalmatia." 

"Well,  if  you  have  been  there,  you  ought  to  know 
that  at  the  head  of  the  Adriatic  they  are  all  old 
pirates,  sea-robbers,  corsairs  retired  from  business, 
when  they  have  not  been  hanged,  and — " 

"The  Uscoques,  in  fine,"  said  Georges. 

On  hearing  the  proper  name  the  count,  whom 
Napoleon  had  formerly  sent  to  the  Illyrian  prov- 
inces, turned  his  head  around,  so  astonished  was  he. 

"It  was  in  the  city  in  which  maraschino  is  made," 
said  Schinner,  as  he  seemed  to  be  looking  for  a 
word. 

"Zara!"  said  Georges.  "I've  been  there,  it  is 
on  the  coast." 

"You  have  it,"  continued  the  painter.  "As  for 
me,  I  went  there  to  see  the  country,  for  I  adore 
landscape.  At  least  a  score  of  times  have  I  desired 
to  make  landscape  pictures,  which,  in  my  opinion, 
no  one  understands  except  Mistigris,  who  will  one 


96  A  START  IN  LIFE 

day  continue  Hobbema,  Ruysdael,  Claude  Lorrain,  ( 

Poussin  and  others. " 

"But,"  the  count  exclaimed,  "to  continue  only 
one  of  those  will  be  quite  enough."  t\ 

"If  you  keep  on  interrupting,  sir,"  said  Oscar,  4 

"we  will  lose  sight  of  what  is  being  talked  about." 

"Besides,  it  isn't  you  that  the  gentleman  is  speak- 
ing to,"    said  Georges  to  the  count. 

"It  is  not  polite  to  interrupt  a  remark,"  Mistigris 
said  sententiously ;  "but  we  have  all  done  so  all 
the  same,  and  we  would  lose  a  great  deal  if  we 
didn't  intersperse  the  discourse  with  little  pleasant-  * 

ries  exchanging  our  reflections.  All  Frenchmen 
are  equal  in  the  cuckoo,  Georges'  grandson  has 
said.     So,  continue,  pleasant  old  man! — humbug  us.  m 

That's  done  in  the  best  society;  and  you  know  the 
proverb :  'When  you  are  at  home,  you  must  do  as 
they  do  at  Rome.'  " 

"They  had  told  wonderful  things  about  Dal- 
matia,"  continued  Schinner;  "accordingly,  I  went 
there,  leaving  Mistigris  at  the  inn  in  Venice."  i 

** At  the  locanda!"  retorted  Mistigris,  "let's  give 
it  its  local  coloring."  ' 

"Zara,  as  they  say,  is  a  dirty  place — "  ^ 

"Yes,"  said  Georges,  "but  it  is  fortified." 

"Forsooth!"  said  Schinner,  "the  fortifications 
count  for  much  in  my  adventure.  At  Zara  there 
are  many  apothecaries,  and  I  lodged  with  one  of 
them.  In  foreign  countries  everybody's  chief  trade 
is  to  rent  a  furnished  room,  the  other  trade  is  an 
accessory.     In  the  evening  I  go  to  my  balcony  after 


i 


A  START  IN  LIFE  97 

having  changed  linen.  Now  on  the  balcony  oppo- 
site I  observe  a  woman,  oh !  but  a  woman,  a  Greek, 
and,  which  is  saying  everything,  the  most  beautiful 
creature  in  the  whole  city:  eyes  outlined  like  an 
almond,  pupils  that  unfolded  themselves  like 
jalousies,  and  lashes  fine  as  an  artist's  pencil;  a 
countenance  so  oval  as  to  drive  Raphael  mad,  a 
complexion  of  delicious  coloring,  the  tints  well- 
blended,  velvety — ;  hands,  oh! — " 

"That  were  not  of  butter,  like  those  of  the  David 
school  of  painting,"  said  Mistigris. 

"Eh!  you  are  always  talking  to  us  of  painting," 
Georges  exclaimed. 

"Ah!  'What  is  bread  in  the  bone  will  come  out 
in  the  flesh,'  "  Mistigris  replied. 

"And  a  costume!  the  pure  Greek  costume,"  con- 
tinued Schinner.  "You  understand  that  I  was  all 
aflame.  I  question  my  Diafoirus,  and  he  tells  me 
that  this  neighbor  is  named  Zena.  I  change  linen. 
To  marry  Zena,  her  husband,  an  old  wretch,  gave 
three  hundred  thousand  francs  to  her  relatives,  so 
famous  was  the  beauty  of  this  truly  most  beautiful 
girl  in  all  Dalmatia,  Illyria,  the  Adriatic,  etc.  In 
that  country  a  man  buys  his  wife,  and  without 
seeing — " 

"I'll  not  go,"  said  old  Leger. 

"There  are  nights  when  my  sleep  is  lit  up  by 
Zena's  eyes,"  Schinner  continued.  "That  young 
premier  of  a  husband  was  sixty-seven  years  old. 
Good !  But  he  was  jealous,  not  quite  as  a  tiger,  for 
it  is  said  of  tigers  that  they  are  as  jealous  as  a 
7 


98  A  START  IN  LIFE 

Dalmatian,  and  my  man  was  worse  than  a  Dalma- 
tian, he  was  equal  to  three  Dalmatians  and  a  half. 
He  was  an  Uscoque,  a  tricoque,  an  archicoque,  in  a 
bicoque,  a  paltry  place." 

"In  fine,  one  of  those  jolly  fellows  that  'don't 
chain  up  their  hogs  with  sausages,'  "  said  Mistigris. 

"Famous!"  remarked  Georges,  laughing. 

"After  having  been  a  corsair,  perhaps  a  pirate, 
my  funny  fellow  talked  lightly  of  killing  a  Chris- 
tian, as  1  would  of  spitting  on  the  ground,"  Schin- 
ner  continued.  "That's  the  kind  of  chap  that  gets 
along  all  right.  Moreover,  rich  enough  to  be  a  mil- 
lionaire, the  old  scamp!  and  ugly  as  a  pirate  whom 
no  pasha  that  I  know  of  would  have  robbed  of  his 
ears,  and  who  had  left  an  eye  I  don't  know  where — 
The  Uscoque  made  very  good  use  of  the  one  that 
was  left  to  him,  and  I  beg  you  to  believe  me  when 
I  tell  you  that  he  had  an  eye  on  everything. 
'Never,'  Diafoirus  told  me,  'does  he  leave  his  wife.' 
'If  she  might  need  your  ministration,  I  would  take 
your  place  in  disguise;  that's  a  turn  that's  always 
successful  in  our  theatrical  pieces,'  I  replied  to  him. 
It  would  take  too  long  to  depict  to  you  the  most 
delightful  time  of  my  life,  namely,  the  three  days 
that  I  spent  at  my  window,  exchanging  looks  with 
Zena  and  changing  linen  every  morning.  It  was  so 
much  the  more  violently  ticklish  as  the  slightest 
movements  were  significant  and  dangerous.  At  last 
Zena  thought,  no  doubt,  that  a  foreigner,  a  French- 
man, an  artist,  was  the  only  one  in  the  world  ca- 
pable of  casting  sheep's  eyes  at  her,  in  the  midst  of 


I 


A  START  IN   LIFE  99 

the  abyss  that  surrounded  her ;  and,  as  she  execrated 
her  frightful  pirate,  she  answered  my  looks  with 
glances  that  would  lift  a  man  to  the  highest  arch  of 
heaven  without  pulleys.  I  reached  the  height  of  the 
Don  Quixote  pinnacle.  I  go  higher,  and  still 
higher!  At  last  I  exclaimed  to  myself :  'Well,  the  old 
man  will  kill  me,  but  I  will  go  on!'  No  landscape 
studies,  I  was  studying  the  bicoque  of  Uscoque. 
At  night,  having  put  on  the  most  perfumed  of  my 
linen,  I  crossed  the  street,  I  was  entering — " 

"The  house?"  said  Oscar." 

"The  house?"  Georges  repeated. 

"The  house,"  also  repeated  Schinner. 

"Well,  you're  a  spanker,"  Leger  exclaimed;  "I 
wouldn't  have  gone  there,  I — " 

"So  much  the  more  as  you  couldn't  have  entered 
the  door,"  replied  Schinner.  "I  entered,  however," 
he  continued,  "and  I  found  two  hands  that  took  hold 
of  my  two  hands.  I  said  nothing,  for  those  hands, 
soft  as  an  onion  skin,  advised  me  to  be  silent  In 
Venetian  dialect  it  was  whispered  in  my  ear:  'He 
sleeps!'  Then,  when  we  were  sure  that  no  one 
could  meet  us,  we  went,  Zena  and  I,  to  walk  on 
the  ramparts,  but  accompanied,  if  you  please,  by 
an  old  duenna,  ugly  as  an  old  porter,  and  who 
stuck  to  us  as  closely  as  our  shadows,  without  my 
being  able  to  get  the  pirate's  wife  to  separate  from 
that  absurd  company.  Next  evening  we  began 
over  again;  I  wanted  to  dismiss  the  old  woman, 
Zena  resisted.  As  my  inamorata  spoke  Greek  and 
1  Venetian,   we  could  not  understand  each  other; 


100  A  START  IN  LIFE 

and  so  we  parted  at  loggerheads.  I  said  to  myself 
as  1  was  changing  linen  :  'For  a  surety,  for  the  first 
time,  there  will  be  no  old  woman,  and  we  will  come 
to  terms,  each  in  one's  own  mother  tongue' — Well, 
it  was  the  old  woman  that  saved  me !  you  are  going 
to  see  how.  The  weather  was  so  fine  that,  so  as 
not  to  arouse  any  suspicions,  I  went  to  stroll  in  the 
country,  after  our  reconciliation,  be  it  well  under- 
stood. After  having  walked  along  the  ramparts,  I 
came  along  quietly  with  my  hands  in  my  pockets, 
and  I  saw  the  street  blocked  with  people.  A  crowd ! 
— as  if  for  an  execution.  That  crowd  rushed  on  me. 
I  was  arrested,  garroted,  led  away  and  guarded  by 
policemen.  No,  you  do  not  know,  and  I  do  not  want 
you  ever  to  know,  what  it  is  to  be  taken  for  an  as- 
sassin in  the  eyes  of  an  unbridled  populace  that 
throws  stones  at  you,  that  hoots  after  you  from  the 
upper  to  the  lower  end  of  the  main  street  of  a  small 
city,  that  follows  you  with  death-dealing  shouts! — 
Ah!  the  eyes  of  all  are  like  so  many  flames,  the 
mouths  of  all  hurl  insult,  and  these  brands  of  scorch- 
ing hate  are  let  loose  to  the  frightful  yell:  'Kill 
him!  down  with  the  assassin!'  sounding  from  afar 
like  a  tenor  voice." 

"They  shouted  in  French,  then,  did  those  Dal- 
matians?" the  count  asked  Schinner.  "You  tell  us 
of  this  incident  as  if  it  had  happened  to  you  yester- 
day." 

Schinner  remained  quite  unconcerned. 

"Riot  speaks  the  same  language  everywhere," 
said  that  profound  politician,  Mistigris. 


A   START   IN   LIFE  lOI 

"In  fine,"  Schinner  continued,  "when  I  reached 
the  palace  of  the  place  and  was  in  the  presence  of 
the  magistrates  of  the  country,  I  learned  that  the 
damned  corsair  was  dead,  poisoned  by  Zena.  I 
might  well  have  wanted  to  be  able  to  change  linen. 
On  my  word  of  honor,  1  knew  nothing  of  this  melo- 
drama. It  seems  that  the  Greek  girl  mixed  opium 
— so  much  corn-poppy  grows  there,  as  the  gentle- 
man says! — with  the  pirate's  grog  in  order  to  steal 
a  few  moments'  liberty  for  the  purpose  of  taking  a 
walk,  and,  the  evening  before,  this  unfortunate 
woman  made  a  mistake  in  the  dose.  The  damned 
pirate's  immense  fortune  was  the  cause  of  all  my 
Zena's  misfortune;  but  she  explained  matters  so 
candidly  that  I,  in  the  first  place,  on  the  old  woman's 
declaration,  was  cleared  of  all  blame,  with  an  in- 
junction from  the  mayor  and  the  Austrian  commis- 
sary of  police  to  go  to  Rome.  Zena,  who  let  a 
large  part  of  the  Uscoque's  riches  go  to  the  heirs  and 
to  justice,  got  off,  I  have  been  told,  with  two  years' 
seclusion  in  a  convent,  where  she  still  remains,  I 
will  go  and  make  a  portrait  of  her,  for  in  a  few 
years  everything  will  be  well  forgotten.  Such 
stupid  things  is  one  guilty  of  at  eighteen." 

"And  you  left  me  without  a  sou  in  the  locanda 
at  Venice,"  said  Mistigris.  "I  made  my  way  from 
Venice  to  Rome  to  find  you,  painting  portraits  at 
five  francs  apiece,  and  not  getting  paid  for  them; 
but  it  was  the  finest  time  I  ever  had !  As  the  say- 
ing is,  *  happiness  doesn't  dwell  under  gilded  peel- 
ings.* " 


102  A   START  IN   LIFE 

"You  may  picture  to  yourselves  the  reflections 
that  took  me  by  the  throat  in  a  Dalmatian  prison, 
cast  in  there  without  protection,  having  to  answer 
to  Austrians  of  Dalmatia,  and  menaced  with  the 
loss  of  my  head  for  having  walked  twice  with  a 
woman  bent  on  keeping  her  portress  by  her.  What 
ill-luck!"  Schinner  exclaimed. 

"How  did  that  happen  to  you.?"  Oscar  naively 
asked. 

"How  could  that  not  have  happened  to  the  gen- 
tleman, since  it  had  happened  once  already  during 
the  French  occupation  of  Illyria  to  one  of  our  finest 
artillery  officers.!*"  the  count  said  knowingly. 

"And  you  believed  the  artilleryman?"  as  know- 
ingly remarked  Mistigris  to  the  count. 

"And  that's  all.?"  Oscar  asked. 

"Well,"  said  Mistigris,  "he  can't  tell  you  that 
they  cut  off  his  head.     'The  sore  the  merrier.'  " 

"Are  there  any  farms  in  that  country,  sir.?"  old 
Leger  asked.     "How  do  they  cultivate  there?" 

"They  cultivate  maraschino,"  said  Mistigris,  "a 
plant  that  grows  as  high  as  your  mouth,  and  that 
produces  the  liqueur  of  that  name." 

"Ah!"  said  old  Leger. 

"I  remained  only  three  days  in  town  and  a  fort- 
night in  prison,  I  saw  nothing,  not  even  the  fields 
where  the  maraschino  grows,"  Schinner  replied. 

"They  are  poking  fun  at  you,"  said  Georges  to 
old  Leger.     "Maraschino  comes  in  cases." 


* 

The  Pierrotin  coach  was  then  going  down  one  of 
the  slopes  of  the  deep  valley  of  Saint-Brice,  to  reach 
the  inn  situated  in  the  centre  of  that  big  town, 
where  it  stopped  about  an  hour  in  order  to  give  its 
horses  a  breathing  spell,  to  feed  them  oats  and 
water  them.     It  was  then  about  half-past  one. 

"Well,  it's  old  Leger,"  the  innkeeper  exclaimed, 
just  as  the  coach  drew  up  in  front  of  his  door.  "Are 
you  going  to  have  lunch?" 

"Once  a  day,"  the  big  farmer  replied;  "we're 
going  to  break  a  crust." 

"Get  us  lunch,"  said  Georges,  holding  his  cane 
militarily  in  such  a  cavalier  way  as  to  excite 
Oscar's  admiration. 

Oscar  went  wild  when  he  saw  this  devil-may- 
care  adventurer  taking  from  his  side  pocket  a  cigar- 
case  of  pleated  straw  from  which  he  took  a  light 
cigar  that  he  smoked  on  the  doorstep  while  waiting 
for  lunch. 

"Do  you  smoke?"  said  Georges  to  Oscar. 

"Sometimes,"  replied  the  ex-collegian  as  he 
swelled  out  his  little  chest  and  assumed  a  certain 
air  of  swagger. 

Georges  offered  the  wide-open  case  to  Oscar  and 
Schinner. 

"Bless  me!"  said  the  great  painter,  "ten-sou 
cigars!" 

(103) 


104  A  START   IN   LIFE 

"That's  all  that's  left  of  what  I  brought  with  me 
from  Spain,"  said  the  adventurer.  "Are  you  going 
to  have  lunch?" 

"No,"  said  the  artist,  "I'm  expected  at  the 
chateau.  Besides,  I  took  something  before  leav- 
ing." 

"And  you?"  said  Georges  to  Oscar. 

"I  have  breakfasted,"  said  Oscar. 

Oscar  would  have  given  ten  years  of  his  life  to 
have  boots  and  gaiter-straps.  And  he  sneezed,  and 
he  coughed,  and  he  spat,  and  he  drew  in  the  smoke 
with  badly  disguised  grimaces. 

"You  don't  know  how  to  smoke,"  said  Schinner 
to  him,  "see!" 

Schinner,  with  undisturbed  countenance,  drew  in 
the  smoke  from  his  cigar,  and  blew  it  out  through 
his  nose  without  the  slightest  contraction.  He 
began  over  again,  kept  the  smoke  in  his  throat, 
took  the  cigar  out  of  his  mouth  and  blew  out  the 
smoke  gracefully. 

"Look  at  that,  young  man,"  said  the  great 
painter. 

"Look  at  that,  young  man,  another  process," 
said  Georges  imitating  Schinner,  but  swallowing 
all  the  smoke  and  expelling  none  of  it 

"And  my  folks  who  thought  they  had  given  me 
an  education!"  poor  Oscar  thought  as  he  tried  to 
smoke  gracefully. 

He  felt  so  great  a  nausea  thathe  willingly  allowed 
Mistigris  to  filch  the  cigar,  and  the  latter  said  to 
him  as  he  smoked  it  with  evident  pleasure: 


A  START  IN   LIFE  105 

"You  have  no  contagious  disease?" 

Oscar  would  have  liked  to  be  strong  enough  to 
fell  Mistigris. 

"What!"  he  said  as  he  pointed  to  Colonel 
Georges,  "eight  francs  for  Alicante  wine  and 
cheese-cakes,  forty  sous  for  cigars,  and  his  lunch 
that  is  going  to  cost  him—" 

"At  least  ten  francs,"  Mistigris  replied;  "but 
that's  the  way  it  goes:  'Little  streams  make  great 
quivers. ' ' ' 

"Ah !  old  man  Leger,  we  will  by  all  means  drink  a 
bottle  of  Bordeaux, ' '  Georges  then  said  to  the  farmer. 

"His  lunch  is  going  to  cost  him  twenty  francs!" 
Oscar  exclaimed.  "So  there  goes  now  over  thirty 
francs." 

Afflicted  by  the  feeling  of  his  own  inferiority, 
Oscar  sat  down  on  the  ledge  and  was  lost  in  a 
dream  which  did  not  allow  him  to  see  that  his 
trousers,  drawn  up  by  the  effect  of  his  position, 
showed  the  joining  of  an  old  stocking  leg  with  a 
new  foot,  one  of  his  mother's  masterpieces. 

"We  are  brothers  in  stockings,"  said  Mistigris  as 
he  slightly  raised  his  trousers  to  show  an  effect  of 
the  same  kind;  "but,  'shoemakers  are  always  the 
worst  shot.'  " 

This  pleasantry  caused  a  smile  in  Monsieur  de 
Serizy,  who  was  standing  with  crossed  arms  under 
the  gateway  behind  the  passengers.  However  fool- 
ish these  young  men  were,  the  grave  statesman 
envied  them  their  defects,  he  liked  their  buoyancy, 
he  admired  the  vivacity  of  their  pleasantries. 


q 


I06  A  START  IN   LIFE 

"Well,  will  you  have  the  Moulineaux?  for  you 
have  been  to  Paris  to  get  money,"  said  the  inn- 
keeper to  old  Leger,  to  whom  he  had  just  shown  in 
his  stables  a  pony  he  had  for  sale.  "You  will  have 
some  fun  shearing  a  peer  of  France,  a  minister  of 
State,  the  Comte  de  Serizy. " 

The  old  administrator  let  no  sign  be  visible  on 
his  countenance,  and  turned  round  to  examine  the 
farmer. 

"It  is  all  fixed,"  old  Leger  replied  to  the  inn- 
keeper in  a  low  voice. 

"Faith,  so  much  the  better,  1  like  to  see  the 
nobles  get  dished — And  if  you  needed  twenty  thou- 
sand francs,  I  would  loan  them  to  you;  but  Fran- 
cois, the  driver  of  the  six  o'clock  Touchard,  has 
just  told  me  that  Monsieur  Margueron  has  been  in- 
vited by  the  Comte  de  Serizy  to  dine  this  very  day 
at  Presles. " 

"That's  His  Excellency's  plan,  but  we  also  have 
our  little  schemes,"  old  Leger  replied. 

"The  count  will  get  the  place  for  Monsieur  Mar- 
gueron's  son,  and  you  have  no  place  to  give,  not 
you!"  said  the  innkeeper  to  the  farmer. 

"No;  but,  if  the  count  has  the  ministers  with 
him,  as  for  me,  I  have  King  Louis  XVIII.,"  old 
Leger  whispered  in  the  innkeeper's  ear,  "and  forty 
thousand  of  his  portraits  given  to  goodman  Moreau 
will  enable  me  to  buy  the  Moulineaux  for  two  hun- 
dred and  sixty  thousand  francs  cash  down  before 
Monsieur  de  Serizy,  who  will  be  very  glad  to  buy 
back  the  farm  for  three  hundred  and  sixty  thousand 


A  START  IN  LIFE  IO7 

francs,  rather  than  see  the  land  put  up  in  lots  at 
auction." 

"Not  bad,  burgher,"  the  innkeeper  exclaimed. 

"Isn't  it  well  planned?"  said  the  farmer. 

"After  all,"  said  the  innkeeper,  "the  farm  is 
worth  that  to  him." 

"The  Moulineaux  to-day  brings  six  thousand 
francs  clear  income,  and  I  will  renew  the  lease  at 
seven  thousand  five  hundred  for  eighteen  years. 
Thus  it  is  an  investment  at  over  two  and  a  half. 
The  count  will  not  be  robbed.  So  as  not  to  injure 
Monsieur  Moreau,  I  will  be  proposed  by  him  as 
lessee  to  the  count;  he  will  have  the  appearance  of 
looking  after  his  master's  interests  by  getting  for 
him  nearly  three  per  cent  for  his  money  and  a  ten- 
ant who  will  be  good  pay — " 

"What  will  old  Moreau  have  in  all?" 

"Forsooth,  if  the  count  gives  him  ten  thousand 
francs,  he  will  have  fifty  thousand  francs  out  of  this 
affair,  but  he  will  have  well  earned  it." 

"Besides,  after  all,  he  is  taking  good  care  of 
Presles!  and  he  is  so  rich!"  said  the  innkeeper. 
"I  have  never  seen  him  myself." 

"Nor  I,"  said  old  Leger;  "but  he  is  coming  at 
last  to  dwell  here;  otherwise  he  would  not  spend 
two  hundred  thousand  francs  on  restoring  the  in- 
terior.    'Tis  as  fine  as  is  the  king's  palace." 

"Ah!  well,"  said  the  innkeeper,  "it  was  time  for 
Moreau  to  butter  his  bread!" 

"Yes,  for  once  the  masters  are  there,"  said  Leger, 
"they  will  not  put  their  eyes  in  their  pockets." 


I08  A  START  IN   LIFE 

The  count  did  not  lose  a  single  word  of  this  con- 
versation held  in  a  low  voice. 

"I  have  here  the  proofs,  then,  that  I  was  going  to 
look  for  down  there,"  he  thought  as  he  scanned  the 
big  farmer,  who  went  into  the  kitchen.  "Perhaps, " 
he  said  to  himself,  "it  is  as  yet  only  in  the  condition 
of  a  plan?  perhaps  Moreau  has  accepted  nothing?" 
still  so  repugnant  was  it  to  him  to  believe  his  man- 
ager capable  of  participating  in  such  a  conspiracy. 

Pierrotin  came  to  water  his  horses.  The  count 
thought  that  the  driver  was  going  to  lunch  with  the 
innkeeper  and  the  farmer;  now  what  he  had  just 
heard  led  him  to  fear  some  indiscretion. 

"All  those  people  have  an  understanding  against 
us,  it  is  a  fme  thing  to  upset  their  plans,"  he 
thought.  "Pierrotin,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice  to 
the  coach-driver  as  he  approached  him,  "I  have 
promised  you  ten  louis  if  you  keep  my  secret;  but 
if  you  want  to  continue  to  conceal  my  name — and 
1  will  know  whether  you  have  either  pronounced 
my  name  or  given  the  least  sign  that  could  reveal 
it  until  this  evening,  to  anyone  whomsoever,  any- 
where, even  at  L'Isle-Adam — I  will  give  you  to- 
morrow morning,  on  your  way  back,  the  thousand 
francs  to  finish  paying  for  your  new  coach.  Thus, 
for  greater  safety,  "said  the  count  as  he  slapped  the 
shoulder  of  Pierrotin,  who  had  become  pale  with 
pleasure,  "don't  lunch,  but  stay  at  your  horses' 
heads." 

"Count,  I  understand  you  clearly,  come!  it  is  in 
reference  to  old  Leger. " 


A  START   IN   LIFE  IO9 

"It  is  in  regard  to  everybody,"  the  count  replied. 

"Make  your  mind  easy— Let's  hurry  off,"  said 
Pierrotin  as  he  opened  the  kitchen  door,  "we  are 
late.  Listen,  old  man  Leger,  you  know  that  there 
is  the  hill  to  climb;  as  for  me,  I'm  not  hungry,  I 
will  go  leisurely,  you  will  easily  catch  up  with  me, 
it  will  do  you  good  to  walk." 

"Is  he  mad?  Pierrotin  I  mean!"  remarked  the 
innkeeper.  "You  do  not  want  to  come  and  lunch 
with  us?  The  colonel  is  paying  for  fifty-sou  wine 
and  a  bottle  of  champagne." 

"I  can't.  I  have  a  fish  that  must  be  left  at  Stors 
at  three  o'clock  for  a  great  dinner,  and  those  cus- 
tomers are  not  to  be  trifled  with,  and  neither  are 
fish." 

"Well,"  said  old  Leger  to  the  innkeeper,  "yoke 
to  your  cab  that  horse  that  you  want  to  sell  to  me, 
you  will  make  us  catch  up  with  Pierrotin,  we  will 
lunch  in  peace,  and  I  will  judge  of  the  horse. 
There'll  be  quite  room  enough  for  three  of  us  in 
your  bone-shaker." 

To  the  count's  great  satisfaction  Pierrotin  came 
himself  to  re-bridle  his  horses.  Schinner  and  Mis- 
tigris  had  set  out  ahead.  Scarcely  had  Pierrotin, 
who  caught  up  with  the  two  artists  in  the  middle  of 
the  road  between  Saint-Brice  and  Poncelles,  reached 
an  eminence  on  the  road  from  which  one  sees 
Ecouen,  the  Le  Mesnil  belfry  and  the  forests  that 
entirely  encircle  a  most  delightful  landscape,  when 
the  noise  of  a  horse  drawing  a  cab  at  a  gallop  that 
made  its  old  iron  rattle,  announced  old  Leger  and 


no  A  START  IN  LIFE 

Mina's  companion,  who  got  back  to  their  places  in 
the  coach. 

When  Pierrotin  dashed  into  the  path  to  go  down 
to  Moisselles,  Georges,  who  had  never  ceased  tally- 
ing of  the  Saint-Brice  hostess's  beauty  to  old  Leger, 
exclaimed: 

"Look!  not  a  bad  landscape,  great  painter?" 

"Bah!  it  should  not  astonish  you,  you  who  have 
seen  the  Orient  and  Spain." 

"And  who  still  have  two  cigars  from  there!  if  it 
will  not  incommode  anyone,  will  you  finish  them, 
Schinner.-*  for  the  little  young  man  has  had  enough 
in  a  few  swallows." 

Old  Leger  and  the  count  observed  a  silence  that 
was  taken  for  approbation. 

Oscar,  irritated  at  being  called  a  "little  young 
man,"  said,  while  the  two  young  men  were  light- 
ing their  cigars : 

"If  I  have  not  been  Mina's  aide-de-camp,  sir,  if  I 
have  not  been  to  the  East,  I  will  go,  perhaps.  The 
career  for  which  my  family  intends  me  will,  I  hope, 
spare  me  the  unpleasantness  of  traveling  in  a  cuckoo 
when  I  will  be  your  age.  After  having  been  a 
somebody,  once  in  place  I  will  stay  there." 

"£/  ccetera  punctum  !  "  put  in  Mistigris,  mimick- 
ing the  hoarse  young  rooster-voice  in  a  way  that 
made  Oscar's  speech  still  more  ridiculous;  for  the 
poor  youth  was  at  that  period  of  life  when  the 
beard  is  sprouting,  when  the  voice  takes  on  its 
character.  "After  all,"  Mistigris  added,  "  'extremes 
beat.'" 


A  START  IN   LIFE  III 

"Faith!"  remarked  Schinner,  "the  horses  will  be 
able  to  go  no  farther  with  such  a  load." 

"Your  family,  young  man,  think  of  starting  you 
in  a  career,  and  what?"  said  Georges  seriously. 

"Diplomacy,"  Oscar  replied. 

Three  shouts  of  laughter  burst  like  fuses  from  the 
mouths  of  Mistigris,  the  great  painter,  and  old 
Leger.  The  count  himself  could  not  help  smiling. 
Georges  kept  cool. 

"By  Allah!  there's  nothing  to  laugh  at, "said the 
colonel  to  the  laughers.  "Only,  young  man,"  he 
continued,  addressing  Oscar,  "it  seems  to  me  that 
your  respectable  mother  is  for  the  moment  in  a 
social  position  far  from  suitable  for  an  ambassadress 
— She  had  a  basket  quite  worthy  of  esteem  and  a 
toe-piece  on  her  shoes." 

"My  mother,  sir?"  said  Oscar  in  a  tone  of  indigna- 
tion. "Eh !  that  was  the  woman  of  all  work  at  our 
house — " 

"  'At  our  house'  is  quite  aristocratic,"  the  count 
exclaimed    interrupting   Oscar. 

"The  king  says  our,'^  Oscar  replied  proudly. 

A  look  from  Georges  repressed  the  inclination  to 
laugh  that  seized  upon  everybody;  he  thus  gave  the 
painter  and  Mistigris  to  understand  how  necessary 
it  was  to  let  Oscar  have  his  way,  so  as  to  work  this 
mine  of  pleasantry. 

"The  gentleman  is  right,"  said  the  great  painter 
to  the  count  as  he  pointed  to  Oscar;  "the  right 
kind  of  people  say  our,  only  vagrants  say  ai  my 
house.     One  has  always  the  mania  of  appearing  to 


112  A  START  IN   LIFE 

have  what  one  has  not     For  a  man  loaded  with 
decorations — " 

"The  gentleman  is  always  a  decorator,  then?" 
rejoined  Mistigris. 

"You  are  hardly  acquainted  with  the  language 
of  courts.  I  ask  for  your  protection,  Your  Excel- 
lency," Schinner  added  as  he  turned  toward  Oscar. 

"I  congratulate  myself  on  having  traveled,  no 
doubt,  with  three  men  who  are  or  will  be  famous:  a 
painter,  illustrious  already,"  said  the  count,  "a 
future  general  and  a  young  diplomat  who  will  some 
day  restore  Belgium  to  France." 

After  having  committed  the  odious  crime  of 
denying  his  mother,  Oscar,  enraged  at  seeing  how 
his  traveling  companions  were  making  fun  of  him, 
resolved  at  all  hazards  to  conquer  their  incred- 
ulity. 

"All  that  glitters  is  not  gold,"  he  said  as  he  shot 
fire  from  his  eyes. 

"That's  not  it,"  exclaimed  Mistigris.  "It  is: 
'All  is  not  old  that  glitters.'  You  will  not  go  far  in 
diplomacy  unless  you  have  better  proverbs." 

"If  I  do  not  know  proverbs  well,  I  know  my 
way." 

"You  must  be  going  far,"  said  Georges,  "for  the 
woman  of  general  work  at  your  house  slipped  pro- 
visions to  you  as  if  for  a  journey  beyond  seas:  bis- 
cuit, chocolate — " 

"A  special  loaf  and  chocolate,  yes,  sir,"  con- 
tinued Oscar,  "for  my  stomach  is  much  too  delicate 
to  digest  the  coarse  ragouts  of  an  inn." 


I 


THE  COUNT  DE  SEKIZY  OVERHEARS 


"We/l,  zuill  yoii  have  the  Moidineaiix  ?  for  you 
have  been  to  Paris  to  get  inoiu\\\'  said  the  inn- 
keeper to  old  Leger,  to  whom  he  had  Just  shotvti 
in  his  stables  a  pony  he  had  for  sale.  ''You  will 
have  some  fun  shearing  a  peer  of  France,  a  jninister 
of  State,  the  Comte  de  SirizyT 


1,1 


TT7— 


m 


,i'mijH>af 


M\ 


A   START   IN   LIFE  II3 

"The  coarse  ragouts  of  an  inn  are  as  delicate  as 
your  stomach,"  said  Georges. 

"Ah!  I  love  them!"  the  great  painter  ex- 
claimed. 

"That  expression  is  in  fashion  in  the  best  so- 
ciety," Mistigris  continued,  "I  make  use  of  it  at  the 
Black  Hen  tap-room." 

"Your  preceptor  is,  no  doubt,  some  famous  pro- 
fessor. Monsieur  Andrieux,  of  the  French  Academy, 
or  Monsieur  Royer-Collard?"  Schinner  asked. 

"My  preceptor's  name  is  the  Abbe  Loraux,  now 
curate  at  Saint-Sulpice,"  Oscar  continued,  remem- 
bering the  name  of  the  college  confessor. 

"You  have  done  well  to  have  yourself  specially 
brought  up,"  said  Mistigris,  "for  tender  plants  want 
much  prayer ;  but  you  will  recompense  your  abbe, 
won't  you?" 

"Certainly,  he'll  be  a  bishop  some  day,"  said 
Oscar. 

"Through  the  credit  of  your  family?"  Georges 
said  seriously. 

"Perhaps  we  will  contribute  to  having  him  put 
in  his  place,  for  the  Abbe  Frayssinous  often  comes 
to  the  house." 

"Ah!  you  know  the  Abbe  Frayssinous?"  the 
count  asked. 

"He  owes  obligations  to  my  father,"  Oscar 
replied. 

"And  you  are  no  doubt  going  to  your  estate?" 
Georges  remarked. 

"No,   sir;    but,   as  for  me,  I  can  say  where  I  am 
8 


114  A  START  IN   LIFE 

going,  I  am  going  to  the  Presles  cMteau,  to  the 
Comte  de  Serizy's. " 

"Ah!  the  deuce!  you  are  going  to  Presles?" 
Schinner  exclaimed,  turning  as  red  as  a  cherry. 

"You  know  His  Lordship,  the  Comte  de  Serizy .'" 
Georges  asked. 

Old  Leger  turned  to  look  at  Oscar,  and  stared  at 
him  in  a  stupefied  way,  exclaiming: 

"Is  Monsieur  de  Serizy  at  Presles?" 

"Apparently,  since  I  am  going  there,"  Oscar 
replied. 

"And  you  have  often  seen  the  count?"  Monsieur 
de  Serizy  asked  of  Oscar. 

"As  I  see  you,"  Oscar  replied.  "I  am  a  comrade 
of  his  son  who  is  almost  my  age,  nineteen,  and  we 
go  out  on  horseback  together  nearly  every  day." 

"Kings  have  carried  shepherdesses,"  Mistigris 
remarked  sententiously. 

Pierrotin's  winking  at  old  Leger  fully  reassured 
the  farmer. 

"Faith,"  said  the  count  to  Oscar,  "I  am  de- 
lighted to  find  myself  in  the  company  of  a  young 
man  who  can  speak  to  me  of  that  personage ;  I  need 
his  protection  in  a  rather  serious  matter,  one  in 
which  it  would  cost  him  hardly  anything  to  favor 
me.  It  concerns  a  claim  against  the  American  gov- 
ernment. I  will  be  very  glad  to  get  information 
about  Monsieur  de  Serizy's  character." 

"Oh!  if  you  want  to  succeed,"  Oscar  replied, 
assuming  a  malicious  air,  "don't  address  yourself 
to  him,  but  to  his  wife;  he  is  madly  in  love  with 


A  START  IN   LIFE  II5 

her,  and  no  one  knows  better  than  I  to  what  extent, 
but  his  wife  cannot  endure  him." 

"And  why?"  Georges  asked. 

"The  count  has  skin  diseases  that  make  him 
hideous,  which  Doctor  Alibert  is  trying  in  vain  to 
heal.  And  so  Monsieur  de  Serizy  would  give  half 
of  his  immense  fortune  to  have  my  chest,"  said 
Oscar  as  he  opened  his  shirt-front  and  showed  a 
skin  like  a  child's.  "He  lives  alone,  retired  in 
his  mansion.  And  so  one  must  be  well  recom- 
mended to  find  him  there.  In  the  first  place,  he 
gets  up  very  early  in  the  morning,  and  works  from 
three  to  eight  o'clock;  at  eight  o'clock  he  takes  his 
remedies:  sulphur  or  vapor  baths.  He  bakes  him- 
self in  a  sort  of  iron  box,  for  he  always  hopes  to 
get  well." 

"If  he  stands  so  well  with  the  king,  why  can't  he 
touch  him?"  Georges  asked. 

"That  wom.an,  then,  has  a  cuckold!"  said  Mis- 
tigris. 

"The  count  has  promised  thirty  thousand  francs 
to  a  famous  Scotch  physician  who  is  now  treating 
him,"  said  Oscar,  continuing. 

"But  then  his  wife  could  not  be  blamed  for  taking 
the  best — "  said  Schinner,  who  did  not  finish. 

"I  really  think  so,"  said  Oscar.  "This  poor 
man  is  so  dried  up,  so  old,  that  you  would  think  he 
was  about  eighty!  he  is  as  dry  as  parchment,  and 
the  worst  of  it  is,  he  feels  his  position." 

"He  cannot  feel  well,"  said  old  Leger  facetiously. 

"He  adores  his  wife,  sir,  and  he  dares  not  chide 


Il6  A  START  IN   LIFE 

her,"  Oscar  continued;  "he  plays  scenes  with  her 
that  would  make  you  split  your  sides  laughing, 
precisely  like  Arnolphe  in  Moliere's  comedy — " 

The  count,  downcast,  looked  at  Pierrotin,  who, 
seeing  him  unmoved,  imagined  that  Madame  Cla- 
part's  son  was  retailing  calumnies. 

"And  so,  sir,  if  you  would  succeed,"  said  Oscar 
to  the  count,  "go  and  see  the  Marquis  d'Aiglemont 
If  you  have  this  old  adorer  of  madame  with  you, 
you  will  with  but  one  stroke  gain  both  the  wife 
and  the  husband." 

"That's  what  we  call  'Killing  two  birds  with 
one  scone,'  "  said  Mistigris. 

"Ah,  there!"  said  the  painter,  "you  have,  then, 
seen  the  count  in  undress,  you  are,  then,  his  valet 
de  chambre?" 

"His  valet  de  chambre!"  Oscar  exclaimed. 

"But,  goodness!  people  don't  say  such  things 
about  their  friends  in  public  coaches,"  Mistigris 
continued.  "  'Discretion,'  young  man,  'is  the  wetter 
part  of  valor. '    As  for  me,  I  am  not  1  istening  to  you. " 

"It  is  a  case,"  Schinner  exclaimed,  "of  saying: 
'Tell  me  the  company  you  keep,  and  I  will  tell  you 
who  you  mar !'  " 

"Let  me  tell  you,  great  painter,"  Georges  replied 
sententious! y,  "that  one  cannot  speak  ill  of  people 
whom  one  does  not  know,  and  the  little  fellow  has 
just  proved  to  us  that  he  knows  his  Serizy  by  heart. 
If  he  had  spoken  to  us  merely  of  madame,  one 
might  have  believed  that  he  was  on  good  terms 
with—" 


A  START  IN   LIFE  II7 

"Not  another  word  about  the  Comtesse  de  Serizy, 
young  men !"  the  count  exclaimed.  "I  am  the  friend 
of  her  brother,  the  Marquis  de  Ronquerolles,  and 
whoever  would  dare  to  call  the  countess's  honor  in 
question  would  have  to  answer  to  me  for  his  words. " 

"The  gentleman  is  right,"  exclaimed  the  painter, 
"one  should  not  joke  about  women." 

''God,  Honor  aiid  the  Ladies!  1  have  seen  that 
melodrama,"  said  Mistigris. 

"If  I  do  not  know  Mina,  I  do  know  the  Keeper  of 
the  Seals,"  said  the  count,  continuing  and  looking 
at  Georges.  "If  I  do  not  wear  my  decorations,"  he 
said  as  he  looked  at  the  painter,  "I  can  prevent 
the  giving  of  any  to  those  who  do  not  merit  them. 
In  fine,  I  know  so  many  people,  as  I  know  Monsieur 
Grindot,  the  architect  of  Presles — Stop,  Pierrotin, 
I  want  to  get  out  for  a  moment." 

Pierrotin  drove  his  horses  to  the  end  of  the  village 
of  Moisselles,  where  there  is  an  inn  at  which  pas- 
sengers stop.  This  part  of  the  journey  was  made 
in  profound  silence. 

"To  whose  house,  then,  is  that  funny  little  fellow 
going?"  the  count  asked  as  he  led  Pierrotin  into  the 
court-yard  of  the  inn. 

"To  your  manager's.  He  is  the  son  of  a  poor 
woman  who  lives  in  the  Rue  de  la  Cerisaie,  and  to 
whose  house  1  very  often  bring  fruit,  game,  poultry, 
— a  certain  Madame  Husson. " 

"Who  is  that  gentleman.?"  old  Leger  came  and 
asked  Pierrotin  when  the  count  had  left  the  coach- 
driver. 


Il8  A   START  IN   LIFE 

"Faith,  1  know  nothing  about  him,"  Pierrotin 
replied,  "I  am  carrying  him  for  the  first  time;  but 
he  may  be  a  somebody,  the  prince,  for  instance,  to 
whom  belongs  the  Maffliers  chateau,  he  has  just 
told  me  to  drop  him  on  the  way,  he  is  not  going  to 
L'Isle-Adam." 

"Pierrotin  thinks  that  he  is  the  rich  burgher  of 
Maffliers,"  old  Leger  said  to  Georges  as  he  was 
getting  back  into  the  coach. 

At  that  moment  the  three  young  men,  stunned  as 
robbers  caught  in  the  act,  dared  not  look  at  one 
another,  and  seemed  taken  up  with  the  sequels  of 
their  lies. 

"That's  what  is  called  'making  more  toys  than 
work,'  "  said  Mistigris, 

"You  see  that  I  know  the  count,"  Oscar  said  to 
them. 

"That's  possible;  but  you  will  never  be  ambas- 
sador," said  Georges;  "when  one  wants  to  talk  in 
public  coaches,  one  must  be  careful,  like  me,  to 
talk  without  saying  anything." 

"Pride  goes  before  a  wall,"  said  Mistigris  byway 
of  conclusion. 

The  count  then  took  his  place  again,  and  Pierro- 
tin proceeded  in  the  most  profound  silence. 

"Well,  my  friends,"  said  the  count  as  they 
reached  the  Carreau  woods,  "we  are  as  mute  as  if 
we  were  going  to  the  scaffold." 

"It  is  necessary  to  know  'when  to  fold  one's 
tongue,'  "  Mistigris  replied  sententiously. 

"It's  fine  weather,"  said  Georges. 


A  START  IN   LIFE  1 19 

"What  is  that  place?"  said  Oscar  as  he  pointed 
to  the  Franconville  chateau,  which  gives  a  splen- 
did effect  opposite  the  great  Saint-Martin  forest. 

"What!"  the  count  exclaimed,  "you  who  say 
you  have  gone  so  often  to  Presles,  and  you  do  not 
know  Franconville?" 

"The  gentleman,"  said  Mistigris,  "knows  men 
and  not  chateaus. " 

"Diplomats'  apprentices  may  indeed  have  dis- 
tractions!" Georges  exclaimed. 

"Remember  my  name!"  Oscar  replied,  furious. 
"I  am  called  Oscar  Husson,  and,  in  ten  years,  I 
will  be  famous." 

After  these  words,  pronounced  braggingly,  Oscar 
huddled  up  in  his  corner. 

"Husson  de  What?"  Mistigris  asked. 

"A  great  family,"  replied  the  count,  "the  Hus- 
sons  de  la  Cerisaie:  the  gentleman  was  born  under 
the  steps  of  the  Imperial  throne." 

Oscar  then  blushed  to  the  roots  of  his  hair,  and 
was  agitated  by  a  terrible  restlessness.  They  were 
about  to  descend  the  steep  hill  of  La  Cave,  at  the 
foot  of  which,  in  a  narrow  valley  at  the  end  of  the 
great  Saint-Martin  forest  is  the  magnificent  chateau 
of  Presles. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  count,  "I  wish  you  good 
luck  in  your  fine  careers.  Get  reconciled  with  the 
king  of  France,  colonel ;  the  Czerni-Georges  ought 
not  to  look  sour  at  the  Bourbons.  I  have  nothing 
to  prognosticate  for  you,  my  dear  Monsieur  Schin- 
ner;  glory  has  already  come  to  you,  and  you  have 


120  A  START  IN   LIFE 

nobly  achieved  it  by  admirable  works; — but  you 
are  so  much  to  be  feared  that,  as  for  me  who  am 
married,!  would  not  dare  to  make  you  an  offer  to  come 
to  my  country-seat.  As  for  Monsieur  Husson,  he 
needs  no  protection,  he  possesses  the  secrets  of 
statesmen,  he  can  make  them  tremble.  As  for 
Monsieur  Leger,  he  is  going  to  pluck  the  Comte  de 
Serizy,  and  I  have  only  to  ask  him  to  go  at  it 
with  a  strong  hand !  Let  me  off  here,  Pierrotin,  you 
will  pick  me  up  again  to-morrow !"  added  the  count, 
who  got  out,  leaving  his  traveling  companions  in 
their  confusion. 

"The  pace  is  to  the  swift,"  said  Mistigris  on  see- 
ing the  celerity  with  which  the  traveler  was  lost  in 
a  sunken  lane. 

"Oh!  he  is  that  count  who  has  rented  Francon- 
ville;  he  is  going  there,"  said  old  Leger. 

"if  ever  it  happens  to  me,"  said  the  false  Schin- 
ner,  "to  joke  in  a  coach,  I  will  fight  a  duel  with 
myself.  That's  also  your  fault,  Mistigris,"  he 
added,  as  he  slapped  his  grinder's  hat 

"Oh!  I,  who  only  followed  you  to  Venice,"  Mis- 
tigris replied.  "But  'give  a  dog  a  mad  name  and 
hang  him.'  " 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Georges  to  his  neighbor 
Oscar,  "that,  if  perchance  that  was  the  Comte  de 
Serizy,  I  would  not  want  to  be  in  your  skin,  no 
matter  how  free  from  disease  it  is." 

Oscar,  on  thinking  of  his  mother's  recommenda- 
tions, which  these  words  recalled,  turned  pallid 
and  was  brought  to  his  senses. 


A   START   IN   LIFE  121 

"Here  you  are  at  your  destination,  gentlemen," 
said  Pierrotin  as  he  stopped  at  a  fine  gate. 

"What,  already  there?"  said  the  painter,  Georges 
and  Oscar  in  one  breath. 

"That's  pretty  hard!"  said  Pierrotin.  "Ah!  gen- 
tlemen, none  of  you  has  ever  been  this  way  before.'' 
But  there's  the  chateau  of  Presles. " 

"Eh!  all  right,  friend,"  said  Georges,  regaining 
his  assurance.  "I  am  going  to  the  Moulineaux 
farm,"  he  added,  not  wanting  to  let  his  traveling 
companions  see  that  he  was  going  to  the  chateau. 

"Well,  you  are  coming  to  my  house,  then?"  said 
old  Leger. 

"How  so?" 

"Because  I  am  the  Moulineaux  farmer.  And, 
colonel,  what  do  you  want  of  us?" 

"To  taste  your  butter,"  Georges  replied  as  he 
picked  up  his  portfolio. 

"Pierrotin,"  said  Oscar,  "leave  my  baggage  at 
the  manager's,  I  am  going  direct  to  the  chateau." 

Whereupon  Oscar  dashed  into  a  lane,  not  know- 
ing whither  he  was  going. 

"Hey!  ambassador,"  old  Leger  exclaimed, 
"you're  going  into  the  forest.  If  you  want  to  enter 
the  chateau,  then  take  the  small  gate." 

Obliged  to  enter,  Oscar  was  lost  in  the  great  court 
of  the  chateau,  furnished  with  an  immense  flower- 
bed surrounded  by  stakes  connected  with  chains. 
Whilst  old  Leger  was  examining  Oscar,  Georges, 
who  was  struck  dumb  by  the  character  of  the  Mouli- 
neaux   farmer  assumed    by  the    big   husbandman. 


122  A  START  IN   LIFE 

escaped  so  neatly  that  at  the  moment  when  the 
puzzled  fat  man  looked  for  his  colonel,  he  was  no 
longer  able  to  find  him.  The  gate  was  opened  at 
Pierrotin's  request,  and  he  entered  proudly  to  give 
to  the  gate-keeper  the  great  Schinner's  thousand 
and  one  utensils.  Oscar  was  dumfounded  on  see- 
ing Mistigris  and  the  artist,  the  witnesses  to  his 
bravado,  installed  in  the  chateau.  In  ten  minutes, 
Pierrotin  had  finished  unloading  the  painter's  pack- 
ages, Oscar  Husson's  things,  and  the  pretty  little 
leather  trunk,  which  he  entrusted  mysteriously  to 
the  gate-keeper's  wife;  then  he  retraced  his  steps 
as  he  cracked  his  whip,  and  continued  on  the  road 
through  the  L'lsle-Adam  forest,  keeping  on  his 
countenance  the  bantering  expression  of  a  peasant 
figuring  up  his  profits.  No  longer  was  there  any- 
thing wanting  to  his  happiness,  he  was  to  have  his 
thousand  francs  next  day. 

Oscar,  looking  sheepish,  dodged  around  the 
flower-bed,  seeking  to  learn  what  was  to  become  of 
his  two  traveling  companions,  when  he  suddenly 
saw  Monsieur  Moreau  emerging  from  the  great  hall 
called  that  of  the  guards,  at  the  top  of  the  front 
steps.  Clad  in  a  big  blue  overcoat  that  reached 
down  to  his  lieels,  the  manager,  in  yellowish  leather 
breeches,  and  riding  boots,  held  a  short  whip  in  his 
hand. 

"Well,  my  boy,  here  you  are,  then.?  How  is 
your  dear  mamma.-"'  he  said  as  he  clasped  Oscar's 
hand.  "Good-day,  gentlemen;  you  are  no  doubt 
the  painters  who  Monsieur  Grindot,  the  architect. 


A  START   IN   LIFE  123 

told  US  were  coming?"  said  he  to  the  painter  and 
Mistigris, 

He  whistled  twice,  making  use  of  the  end  of  his 
whip.     The  gate-keeper  came. 

"Show  these  gentlemen  to  rooms  14  and  15,  Ma- 
dame Moreau  will  give  you  the  keys;  accompany 
them  so  as  to  show  them  the  way ;  1  ight  a  fire,  if 
necessary,  this  evening,  and  send  their  baggage  up 
to  their  rooms.  I  have  orders  from  the  count  to 
offer  you  my  table,  gentlemen,"  he  continued, 
addressing  the  artists;  "we  dine  at  five  o'clock, 
just  as  at  Paris.  If  you  are  huntsmen  you  can 
amuse  yourselves  very  well,  for  I  have  the  freedom 
of  the  rivers  and  forests:  thus  there  is  hunting  here 
in  twelve  thousand  acres  of  woods,  to  say  nothing 
of  our  domains." 

Oscar,  the  painter  and  Mistigris,  equally  abashed, 
exchanged  looks;  but,  faithful  to  his  part,  Mistigris 
exclaimed: 

"Bah!  one  must  never  'throw  the  handle  after 
the  latcket!'  ever  onward." 

Little  Husson  followed  the  manager,  who  led  him 
away  at  a  rapid  stride  into  the  park. 

"Jacques,"  he  said  to  one  of  his  children,  "go 
and  tell  your  mother  that  little  Husson  has  arrived, 
and  say  to  her  that  I  am  obliged  to  go  to  the  Moli- 
neaux  for  a  moment." 

Then  about  fifty  years  old,  the  manager,  a  man 
of  medium  height  and  of  brown  complexion,  seemed 
very  stern.  His  bilious  countenance,  on  which 
country  habits  had  impressed  strong  colors,  led,  at 


124  A  START  IN   LIFE 

first  sight,  to  suppose  a  character  different  from  his. 
Everything  contributed  to  this  false  impression: 
his  hair  was  turning  gray;  his  blue  eyes  and  a 
large  crow-beaked  nose  gave  him  an  air  so  much 
the  more  sinister  as  his  eyes  were  a  little  too  close 
to  the  nose;  but  his  large  lips,  the  contour  of  his 
face,  the  ease  of  his  gait,  would  have  struck  an 
observer  as  marks  of  goodness.  Full  of  decision, 
blunt  in  speech,  he  made  an  immense  impression 
on  Oscar  in  consequence  of  a  penetration  inspired 
by  tenderness,  which  he  showed  toward  him.  Ac- 
customed by  his  mother  to  make  the  manager  even 
a  bigger  man  than  he  was,  Oscar  always  felt  him- 
self small  in  Moreau's  presence;  but  on  finding 
himself  at  Presles,  he  felt  a  sensation  of  uneasiness, 
as  if  he  expected  evil  from  this  paternal  friend,  his 
sole  protector. 

"Well,  my  Oscar,  you  do  not  look  as  if  you 
were  satisfied  with  being  here?"  said  the  manager. 
"You  are  going,  however,  to  be  amused  here;  you 
will  learn  to  ride  horseback,  to  handle  a  gun,  to 
hunt." 

"I  know  nothing  of  all  that,"  Oscar  said  stupidly, 
"But  I  have  brought  you  here  to  teach  you." 
"Mamma  told  me  to  remain  only  a  fortnight,  be- 
cause of  Madame  Moreau — " 

"Oh!  we  will  see,"  Moreau  replied,  almost  hurt 
at  Oscar  having  expressed  a  doubt  as  to  his  conjugal 
power. 

Moreau's  younger  son,  a  lad  of  fifteen,  almost  a 
strapping  fellow,  and  lithe,  ran  to  them. 


A  START   IN   LIFE  I25 

"Here,"  his  father  said  to  him,  "take  this  com- 
rade to  your  mother." 

And  the  manager  went  rapidly  along  the  shortest 
path  to  the  caretaker's,  situated  between  the  park 
and  the  forest 

The  pavilion,  given  as  a  dwelling  by  the  count  to 
his  manager,  had  been  built  some  years  before  the 
Revolution,  by  the  contractor  of  the  famous  estate 
of  Cassan,  where  Bergeret,  a  farmer-genera!  of  co- 
lossal wealth,  who  made  himself  as  famous  by  his 
high  living  as  did  the  Bodards,  the  PSrises,  the 
Bourets,  made  gardens  and  rivers,  built  hermitages, 
pagodas  and  other  ruinous  splendors. 

This  pavilion,  situated  in  the  middle  of  a  large 
garden,  one  of  the  walls  of  which  was  a  party-wall 
for  the  court  of  the  Presles  chateau  commons, 
formerly  had  its  entrance  on  the  main  street  of  the 
village.  After  having  bought  this  property,  the 
elder  Monsieur  de  Serizy  had  only  to  pull  down 
this  wall  and  condemn  the  gate  leading  to  the  village 
so  as  to  bring  about  the  connecting  of  this  pavilion 
with  his  commons.  By  removing  another  wall  he 
enlarged  his  park  to  the  extent  of  all  the  garden 
that  the  contractor  had  acquired,  so  as  to  round  out 
his  property.  This  pavilion,  built  of  cut  stone,  in 
the  style  of  the  time  of  Louis  XV. — suffice  it  to  say 
that  its  ornaments  consist  of  serviettes  under  the 
windows,  as  in  the  colonnades  of  the  Place  Louis 
XV.,  of  stiff  and  dry  flutings, — is  made  up  of  a 
ground  floor  having  a  handsome  parlor  communi- 
cating with  a  bedroom,  and  of  a  dining-room  with  a 


126  A   START  IN   LIFE 

billiard  hall  adjoining  it.  These  two  parallel  suites 
of  rooms  are  separated  by  a  stairway  in  front  of 
which  a  sort  of  peristyle,  which  serves  as  an  ante- 
chamber, has  the  two  opposite  doors  of  the  salon 
and  dining-room,  both  highly  ornamented,  as  the 
decorative  feature.  The  kitchen  is  under  the  din- 
ing-room, for  one  ascends  to  this  pavilion  by  ten 
steps. 

By  removing  her  living  rooms  to  the  second  floor, 
Madame  Moreau  had  been  able  to  change  the  old 
sleeping-room  into  a  boudoir.  The  salon  and  this 
boudoir,  richly  furnished  with  fine  things  picked 
out  from  among  the  old  furniture  of  the  chateau, 
would  certainly  not  have  disparaged  the  mansion  of 
a  woman  of  fashion.  Hung  with  blue  and  white 
damask,  formerly  the  drapery  of  a  grand  bed  of  honor, 
this  parlor,  the  furniture  of  which  was  of  old  gilt 
wood  upholstered  with  the  same  material,  presented 
to  the  eye  very  ample  curtains  and  portieres,  lined 
with  white  taffeta.  Scenes  that  had  belonged  to  old 
panels  that  were  destroyed,  flower-pots,  some  pretty 
pieces  of  modern  furniture  and  beautiful  lamps, 
besides  an  old  sconce  with  cut  crystals,  gave  an 
appearance  of  grandeur  to  this  room.  The  carpet 
was  an  ancient  Persian  rug.  The  boudoir,  entirely 
modern  and  in  Madame  Moreau's  own  taste,  affected 
the  form  of  a  tent  with  its  cords  of  blue  silk  on  a 
gray  linen  ground.  The  classic  divan  was  found 
there,  with  its  pillows  and  foot-cushions.  Finally, 
the  flower-pots,  cared  for  by  the  gardener-in-chief, 
delighted   the  eye    by  their  pyramids  of  flowers. 


A  START  IN   LIFE  12/ 

The  dining-room  and  billiard  hall  were  furnished  in 
mahogany.  Around  her  pavilion,  the  manager's 
wife  had  had  a  grassplot  arranged  and  kept  care- 
fully cultivated,  that  was  connected  with  the  great 
park.  Clumps  of  exotic  trees  concealed  the  com- 
mons from  view.  To  facilitate  entrance  to  her 
house  for  persons  who  came  to  see  her,  the  man- 
ager's wife  had  replaced  the  old  condemned  gate  by 
a  grille. 

The  dependence  in  which  their  position  put  the 
Moreaus  was,  then,  adroitly  dissembled;  and  they 
had  so  much  the  more  the  appearance  of  being  rich 
people,  managing  a  friend's  property  for  their  own 
pleasure,  that  neither  the  count  nor  the  countess 
came  to  lower  their  pretensions;  then  the  conces- 
sions granted  by  Monsieur  de  Serizy  allowed  them 
to  live  in  that  abundance,  the  luxury  of  country 
life.  Thus  milk,  eggs,  poultry,  game,  fruit,  fodder, 
flowers,  wood,  and  vegetables,  the  manager  and  his 
wife  cultivated  even  to  profusion  and  bought  noth- 
ing indeed  but  butcher's  meat,  wines  and  the  co- 
lonial provisions  required  by  their  princely  life. 
The  farm-yard  girl  did  the  baking.  In  fine,  for  some 
years  past,  Moreau  paid  the  butcher  with  pigs  from 
his  yard,  while  keeping  what  was  necessary  for  his 
own  consumption.  One  day  the  countess,  always 
most  favorably  disposed  to  her  former  chamber- 
maid, gave  her,  as  a  reminder,  perhaps,  a  small 
road-wagon  that  had  gone  out  of  date,  which  Moreau 
hiA  repainted,  and  in  which  he  paraded  his  wife, 
making  use  of  two  good  horses,  useful,  moreover, 


128  A  START  IN   LIFE 

for  work  in  the  park.  Besides  these  horses,  the 
manager  had  his  saddle  horse.  He  ploughed  in  the 
park  and  cultivated  enough  land  to  support  his 
horses  and  his  dependents ;  he  trussed  there  three 
hundred  thousand  pounds  of  excellent  hay,  and 
counted  only  one  hundred,  taking  advantage  of  a 
permission  vaguely  accorded  by  the  count.  Instead 
of  consuming  it,  he  disposed  of  his  half  in  barter. 
He  mainly  supported  his  yard,  his  pigeon-roost  and 
his  cows  at  the  expense  of  the  park ;  but  the  manure 
from  his  stable  served  the  castle  gardeners.  Each 
of  these  little  thefts  brought  its  excuse  with  it. 
Madame  was  waited  on  in  turn  by  the  daughter  of 
one  of  the  gardeners,  her  chambermaid  and  her 
cook.  A  farm-yard  girl,  entrusted  with  the  dairy, 
also  assisted  in  the  housework.  Moreau  had  taken 
a  reformed  soldier,  named  Brochon,  to  clean  his 
horses  and  do  the  rough  work. 

At  Nerville,  at  Chauvry,  at  Beaumont,  at  Maf- 
fliers,  at  Prerolles,  at  Nointel,  everywhere,  the  man- 
ager's pretty  wife  was  received  by  persons  who 
did  not  know  or  feigned  not  to  know  her  former 
condition.  Besides,  Moreau  rendered  services.  He 
disposed  of  his  master's  goods  for  things  that  are 
baubles  at  Paris,  but  that  are  highly  prized  in  the 
rural  districts.  After  having  dictated  the  appoint- 
ment of  the  justice  of  the  peace  at  Beaumont  and 
also  at  L'Isle-Adam,  he  had,  in  the  same  year,  pre- 
vented the  removal  of  a  general  caretaker  of  forests, 
and  obtained  the  Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  for 
the   quartermaster-in-chief  of  Beaumont.      And  so 


A   START  IN   LIFE  1 29 

on  every  festal  occasion  among  the  middle-class. 
Monsieur  and  Madame  Moreau  never  failed  to  be 
invited.  The  pastor  of  Presles  and  the  mayor 
of  Presles  came  to  play  cards  every  evening  at 
Moreau's.  It  is  hard  not  to  be  a  worthy  man 
after  having  made  so  comfortable  a  berth  for  one's 
self. 

A  pretty  woman,  and  conceited  like  all  chamber- 
maids to  great  ladies,  who  when  they  get  married 
imitate  their  mistresses,  the  manager's  wife  im- 
ported new  fashions  into  the  country;  she  wore 
very  expensive  laced  boots,  and  went  on  foot  only 
on  fme  days.  Though  her  husband  allowed  only 
five  hundred  francs  for  toilet,  this  sum  is  enormous 
in  the  country,  especially  when  it  is  judiciously 
used;  and  so  the  manager's  wife,  blonde,  bright  and 
fresh,  about  thirty-six  years  old,  remaining  spare, 
delicate  and  genteel,  in  spite  of  her  three  children, 
still  played  the  young  girl  and  put  on  the  airs  of  a 
princess.  When  one  saw  her  passing  in  her  road- 
wagon  on  her  way  to  Beaumont,  if  any  stranger 
asked:  "Who  is  she?"  Madame  Moreau  was 
furious  when  a  countryman  answered:  "She  is  the 
wife  of  the  manager  of  Presles."  She  liked  to  be 
taken  for  the  mistress  of  the  chateau.  In  the  vil- 
lages she  was  pleased  to  patronize  people,  as  a  great 
lady  would  have  done.  Her  husband's  influence 
over  the  count,  demonstrated  by  so  many  proofs, 
prevented  the  lesser  middle-class  from  making  fun 
of  Madame  Moreau,  who,  in  the  eyes  of  the  peas- 
antry, seemed  a  somebody.  Estclle — her  name  was 
9 


ja 


130  A  START  IN  LIFE 

Estelle — no  more  concerned  herself,  besides,  with 
the  management  than  a  broker's  wife  concerns  her- 
self with  Bourse  affairs;  she  even  depended  on  her 
husband  for  the  cares  of  housekeeping,  of  fortune. 
Confident  in  his  abilities,  she  was  a  thousand  leagues 
from  suspecting  that  this  charming  life,  which  had 
lasted  for  seventeen  years  past,  could  ever  be  men- 
aced; yet,  on  learning  of  the  count's  resolve  in 
regard  to  the  restoration  of  the  magnificent  chateau 
of  Presles,  she  felt  that  this  threatened  all  her  en- 
joyments, and  had  persuaded  her  husband  to  have 
an  understanding  with  Leger  so  as  to  be  able  to 
retire  to  L'Isle-Adam,  She  would  have  suffered  too 
much  on  finding  herself  in  a  quasi-domestic  depend- 
ence in  presence  of  her  former  mistress,  who  would  V 
make  fun  of  her  on  seeing  her  established  in  the 
pavilion  in  such  a  way  as  to  ape  the  life  of  a  really  '•■ 
fashionable  woman.                                                                     I 

The  cause  of  the  deep  enmity  that  raged  between 
the  Reyberts  and  the  Moreaus  came  from  a  wound 
inflicted  by  Madame  de  Reybert  on  Madame  Moreau, 
in  consequence  of  a  first  caviling  that  the  manager's 
wife  had  allowed  herself  to  indulge  in  on  the  arrival 
of  the  Reyberts,  so  as  not  to  let  her  supremacy 
suffer  from  a  woman  whose  maiden  name  was  De 
Corroy. 

Madame  de  Reybert  had  recalled,  perhaps  had 
told  all  the  country  of  Madame  Moreau's  former 
condition.  The  word  chambermaid !  flew  from  mouth 
to  mouth.  Those  envious  persons  that  the  Moreaus 
must  have  had  at  Beaumont,  L'lsle-Adam,  Maffliers, 


A  START  IN  LIFE  131 

Champagne,  Nerville,  Chauvry,  Baillet,  and  Mois- 
selles,  carped  so  well  that  more  than  one  spark  from 
this  conflagration  fell  on  the  Moreau  household. 
For  four  years  past  the  Reyberts,  excommunicated 
by  the  manager's  pretty  wife,  saw  themselves  the 
object  of  so  much  animadversion  on  the  part  of  the 
adherents  of  Moreau,  that  their  position  in  the  coun- 
try was  not  bearable  without  the  thought  of  revenge 
that  had  kept  them  up  until  this  day. 

The  Moreaus,  standing  very  well  with  Grindot, 
the  architect,  had  been  notified  by  him  of  the 
approaching  arrival  of  a  painter,  entrusted  with 
completing  the  ornamental  painting  of  the  chateau, 
the  chief  canvases  of  which  had  just  been  exe- 
cuted by  Schinner.  The  great  painter  had  recom- 
mended for  the  borderings,  arabesques  and  other 
accessories,  the  passenger  who  was  accompanied  by 
Mistigris.  And  so,  for  two  days  past,  Madame 
Moreau  had  put  herself  on  war  footing  and  danced 
attendance.  An  artist,  who  was  to  be  her  guest  for 
a  few  weeks,  called  for  some  outlay.  Schinner 
and  his  wife  had  had  their  rooms  in  the  chateau, 
where,  in  accordance  with  the  count's  orders,  they 
were  treated  like  Her  Ladyship  herself.  Grindot, 
who  took  his  meals  with  the  Moreaus,  showed  so 
much  respect  for  the  great  artist  that  neither  the 
manager  nor  his  wife  had  dared  to  be  familiar  with 
this  great  artist.  The  noblest  and  richest  private 
families  of  the  neighborhood  had,  moreover,  emu- 
lated one  another  in  feasting  Schinner  and  his  wife, 
so  far  indeed,  as  to  dispute  about  them.     And  so. 


132  A  START  IN  LIFE 

quite  bent  on  taking  her  revenge  to  some  extent, 
Madame  Moreau  made  up  her  mind  to  trumpet 
throughout  the  country  the  artist  whom  she  was 
expecting,  and  to  represent  him  as  Schinner's  equal 
in  talent 


* 

Though,  on  the  two  previous  days,  Madame 
Moreau  had  made  two  toilets  full  of  affectation,  the 
manager's  pretty  wife  had  too  well  planned  her  re- 
sources not  to  have  reserved  the  most  charming, 
having  no  doubt  but  that  the  artist  would  come  to 
dinner  on  Saturday.  She  had  accordingly  put  on 
bronzed  kid  laced  shoes  and  Scotch  thread  stockings. 
A  myriad-striped  rose  dress,  a  rose  belt  with  a 
richly  chased  gold  buckle,  a  cross  hung  by  a  velvet 
ribbon  around  her  neck  and  velvet  bracelets  on  her 
bare  arms — Madame  de  Serizy  had  fine  arms  and 
showed  them  a  great  deal, — gave  to  Madame  Moreau 
the  appearance  of  an  elegant  Parisian  lady.  She 
wore  a  magnificent  Leghorn  hat,  adorned  with  a 
bouquet  of  moss  roses  got  at  Nattier's,  and  under  the 
brim  of  which  her  fine  blonde  hair  waved  in  brilliant 
tresses.  After  having  ordered  the  most  delicate 
dinner  and  inspected  her  rooms,  she  had  taken  a 
walk  so  as  to  get  in  front  of  the  flower-bed  in  the 
grand  court  of  the  chateau,  as  if  she  were  its  mis- 
tress, when  the  coaches  were  passing.  She  held 
over  her  head  a  most  dainty  rose  parasol  lined  with 
white  silk,  fringed.  On  seeing  Pierrotin,  who  was 
depositing  the  odd  packages  brought  by  Mistigris, 
in  the  chateau  gate-house  without  any  passenger 
making  his  appearance,  Estelle  returned  disap- 
pointed, regretting  the  making  of  a  second  useless 

(133) 


134  A  START  IN   LIFE 

toilet.  Like  most  persons  when  they  put  on  their  Sun- 
day costume,  she  felt  herself  incapable  of  any  other 
occupation  than  that  of  lolling  in  her  parlor  while 
waiting  for  the  Beaumont  coach,  which  would  pass 
an  hour  after  Pierrotin,  though  it  left  Paris  only  at 
one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  she  returned  to 
her  house  while  the  two  artists  proceeded  to  make 
a  regulation  toilet.  The  young  painter  and  Mis- 
tigris  were  indeed  so  overcome  by  the  praises  that 
the  gardener  bestowed  on  the  pretty  Madame 
Moreau,  after  they  had  asked  him  for  information, 
that  both  of  them  felt  the  necessity  of  trimming 
themselves  up — in  the  language  of  the  workshop, — 
and  they  put  on  their  very  best  dress  before  present- 
ing themselves  at  the  manager's  pavilion,  whither 
they  were  shown  the  way  by  Jacques  Moreau,  the 
eldest  of  the  children,  a  bold  youth  dressed  after  the 
English  fashion  in  a  pretty  vest  with  turned-down 
collar,  and  living  during  vacation  likeafish  in  water, 
on  that  estate  where  his  mother  reigned  as  absolute 
sovereign. 

"Mamma,"  he  said,  "here  are  the  two  artists  sent 
by  Monsieur  Schinner. " 

Madame  Moreau,  very  agreeably  surprised, 
arose,  had  seats  brought  by  her  son,  and  showed  off 
her  graces. 

"Mamma,  little  Husson  is  with  papa,"  the  child 
added,  whispering  in  his  mother's  ear,  "I  am  going 
to  seek  him  for  you — " 

"You  need  be  in  no  hurry,  amuse  yourselves  to- 
gether,"   the  mother  said. 


A  START  IN  LIFE  135 

This  single  expression,  ji^ow  need  be  in  no  hurry, 
gave  the  two  artists  to  understand  of  how  little  im- 
portance was  their  traveling  companion;  but  there 
entered  into  it  also  the  feeling  of  a  step-mother  for 
a  step-son.  Indeed,  Madame  Moreau,  who  could 
not,  after  seventeen  years  of  married  life,  be  igno- 
rant of  the  manager's  attachment  to  Madame  Clapart 
and  little  Husson,  hated  both  the  mother  and  the 
child  in  so  pronounced  a  way  that  one  will  under- 
stand why  the  manager  had  not  yet  risked  having 
Oscar  come  to  Presles. 

"We  have  been  instructed,  my  husband  and  my- 
self," she  said  to  the  two  artists,  "to  do  you  the 
honors  of  the  chateau.  We  are  very  fond  of  the  arts, 
and  especially  artists,"  she  added  with  a  winning 
smile,  "and  I  entreat  you  to  make  yourselves  per- 
fectly at  home  here.  In  the  country,  you  know, 
one  is  not  stiff;  it  is  necessary  to  have  full  liberty 
there;  without  that,  everything  there  is  insipid. 
We  have  already  had  Monsieur  Schinner — " 

Mistigris  looked  mischievously  at  his  companion. 

"No  doubt  you  know  him?"Estelle  continued 
after  a  pause. 

"Who  does  not  know  him,  madame?"  the  painter 
replied. 

"He  is  as  well  known  as  hops,**  Mistigris  added. 

"Monsieur  Grindot  has  told  me  your  name," 
Madame  Moreau  remarked,  "but  I — " 

"Joseph  Bridau, "  replied  the  painter,  who  was 
extremely  concerned  to  know  with  what  woman  he 
was  dealing. 


I 


136  A  START  IN  LIFE 

Mistigris  began  to  rebel  internally  against  the 
patronizing  tone  of  the  manager's  pretty  wife;  but 
he  waited,  as  did  Bridau,  for  some  action,  some  word, 
that  would  enlighten  him,  one  of  those  words  de 
singe  d  dauphin  that  painters,  those  cruel  natural - 
born  observers  of  the  ridiculous, — the  food  of  their 
crayons,— so  readily  lay  hold  of.  And  in  the  first 
place,  Estelle's  large  hands  and  large  feet,  charac- 
teristic of  the  peasant  girls  of  the  Saint-L6  neigh- 
borhood, struck  the  two  artists;  then  one  or  two 
chambermaid  phrases,  turns  of  speech  that  belied 
the  elegance  of  toilet,  readily  enabled  the  painter 
and  his  pupil  to  recognize  their  prey;  and,  by  ex- 
changing a  single  glance,  both  agreed  to  take  Estelle 
seriously,  so  as  to  spend  the  time  of  their  sojourn 
agreeably. 

"You  like  the  arts,  perhaps  you  cultivate  them 
successfully,  madame?"  said  Joseph  Bridau. 

"No.  Without  being  neglected,  my  education 
was  purely  commercial;  but  I  have  so  profound  and 
so  delicate  a  feeling  for  the  arts  that  Monsieur 
Schinner  always  entreated  me  to  come,  when  he 
had  finished  a  piece,  to  give  him  my  opinion." 

"As  Moliere  consulted  Laforet,"  said  Mistigris. 

Not  knowing  that  Laforet  was  a  servant  girl,  Ma- 
dame Moreau  replied  with  a  bow  which  showed  that, 
in  her  ignorance,  she  accepted  this  phrase  as  a  com- 
pliment. 

"How  was  it  he  didn't  offer  to  sketch  you.?"  said 
Bridau.       "Painters    are    rather   sweet  on   pretty 


women." 


A  START  IN   LIFE  1 37 

"What  do  you  mean  by  these  words?"  remarked 
Madame  Moreau,  on  whose  countenance  was  pictured 
the  wrath  of  an  offended  queen. 

"In  studio  language,  we  call  sketching  a  head, 
making  an  outline  of  it,"  said  Mistigris  with  an  in- 
sinuating air,  "and  we  do  not  ask  to  sketch  any 
but  pretty  heads.  Whence  the  expression,  she  is 
pretty  to  paint!" 

"I  was  ignorant  of  the  origin  of  this  term,"  she 
replied  as  she  gave  Mistigris  one  of  the  softest  of 
glances. 

"My  pupil,"  said  Bridau,  "Monsieur  Leon  de 
Lora,  shows  a  strong  disposition  for  portrait  paint- 
ing. He  would  be  only  too  happy,  fair  lady,  to 
leave  you  a  reminder  of  our  stay  here  by  painting 
your  charming  head." 

Joseph  Bridau  made  a  sign  to  Mistigris  as  if  to 
say: 

"Come,  push  your  point!  She  is  not  quite  so 
bad,  this  woman  isn't."  At  this  glance  Leon  de 
Lora  glided  over  to  the  sofa,  close  to  Estelle,  and 
took  hold  of  her  hand,  which  was  not  withdrawn. 

"Oh!  if,  to  gwe  your  husband  a  surprise,  ma- 
dame,  you  would  give  me  a  few  sittings  in  secret,  I 
would  try  to  surpass  myself.  You  are  so  beautiful, 
so  fresh,  so  charming! — An  untalented  man  would 
become  a  genius  by  having  you  for  a  model !  One 
would  derive  from  your  eyes  so  much — " 

"Then  we  will  paint  your  dear  children  in  the 
arabesques,"  said  Joseph,  interrupting  Mistigris. 

"I  would  prefer  to  have  them  in  my  parlor;  but 


t 

138  A  START  IN  LIFE 

i 

that  would   be  indiscreet,"  she  continued,  as  she  ^ 

looked  at  Bridau  in  a  coquettish  way. 

"Beauty,  madame,  is  a  sovereign  that  painters 
adore,  and  that  has  many  rights  over  them." 

"They  are  charming,"  Madame  Moreau  thought. 
"Do  you  like  riding  around  of  an  evening,  after 
dinner,  in  a  road-wagon,  in  the  woods?" 

"Oh!  oh!  oh!  oh!  oh!"  exclaimed  Mistigris  at 
each  circumstance  and  in  ecstatic  tones;  "but 
Presles  will  be  the  earthly  paradise." 

"With  an  Eve,  a  blonde,  a  young  and  charming 
woman,"  Bridau  added. 

Just  as  Madame  Moreau  bridled  up  and  floated 
in  the  seventh  heaven,  she  was  brought  to  herself, 
like  a  kite  by  a  pull  of  the  cord. 

"Madame!"  exclaimed  her  chambermaid  as  she 
entered  like  a  ball. 

"Well,  Rosalie,  who,  then,  could  authorize  you 
to  come  here  without  being  called?" 

Rosalie  took  no  notice  of  the  apostrophe,  and 
whispered  in  her  mistress's  ear : 

"The  count  is  at  the  chateau." 

"Does  he  want  me?"  the  manager's  wife  replied. 

"No,  madame — But — he  wants  his  trunk  and  the 
key  of  his  rooms." 

"Let  him  have  them,  then,"  she  said,  giving  a 
sign  of  temper  so  as  to  conceal  her  anxiety. 

"Mamma,  this  is  Oscar  Husson!"  the  younger  of 
her  sons  exclaimed  as  he  led  in  Oscar,  who,  red  as 
a  corn-poppy,  did  not  dare  to  advance  when  he  found 
the  two  painters  in  toilet. 


A  START  IN  LIFE  1 39 

"Here  you  are  at  last,  then,  my  little  Oscar," 
said  Estelle  with  a  forced  expression.  "I  hope  you 
are  going  to  dress,"  she  continued  after  having  ex- 
amined him  in  the  most  contemptuous  way.  "Your 
mother  did  not,  I  think,  accustom  you  to  dine  in 
company  jumbled  together  as  you  are  now." 

"Oh!"  said  Mistigris  cruelly,  "a  future  diplomat 
ought  to  be  well-seated — as  to  trousers.*  'Two  coats 
are  better  than  won.'  " 

"A  future  diplomat?"  Madame  Mpreau  exclaimed. 

At  that,  poor  Oscar  had  tears  in  his  eyes  as  he 
looked  in  turn  at  Joseph  and  Leon. 

"A  pleasantry  perpetrated  on  the  journey,"  re- 
plied Joseph,  who  from  pity,  wanted  to  save  Oscar 
from  this  false  step. 

"The  little  fellow  wanted  to  laugh  as  we  did,  and 
he  joked,"  said  the  cruel  Mistigris;  "now  here  he 
is,  Mike  an  ass  in  Dover.'  " 

"Madame,"  said  Rosalie  as  she  returned  to  the 
parlor  door,  "His  Excellency  orders  dinner  for  eight 
persons,  and  wishes  it  served  at  six  o'clock.  What's 
to  be  done?" 

During  the  conference  between  Estelle  and  her 
head  servant,  the  two  artists  and  Oscar  exchanged 
looks  in  which  frightful  fears  were  depicted. 

"His  Excellency!  who?"  said  Joseph  Bridau. 

"Only  the  Comte  de  Serizy,"  little  Moreau  re- 
plied. 

♦This  phrase  cannot  be  intelligently  translated  into  English.  The  original 
reads:  en  fonds  de culotte  {'m  seats— of  breeches)  «» /onrfi  is  generally  equiv- 
alent to  in  funds. 


140  A  START  IN  LIFE 

"Was  he  perchance  in  the  cuckoo?"  said  Leon  de 
Lora. 

"Oh!"  remarked  Oscar,  "the  Comte  de  Serizy 
would  travel  only  in  a  carriage  with  four  horses." 

"How  did  the  Comte  de  Serizy  come?"  the 
painter  asked  of  Madame  Moreau  when  she  returned 
to  her  place  rather  mortified. 

"I  know  nothing  about  it,"  she  said,  "I  cannot 
explain  His  Lordship's  arrival,  nor  what  he  comes 
to  do.     And  Moreau  is  not  there!" 

"His  Excellency  begs  Monsieur  Schinner  to  go 
over  to  the  chateau,"  said  a  gardener  addressing 
Joseph,  "and  he  begs  him  to  give  him  the  pleasure 
of  dining  with  him,  as  well  as  Monsieur  Mistigris. " 

"We're  done  for,"  said  the  grinder,  laughing. 
"He  whom  we  took  for  a  burgher  in  the  Pierrotin 
coach  is  the  count.  One  is  right  in  saying  that 
one  never  binds  what  one  seeks. " 

Oscar  changed  almost  into  a  statue  of  salt;  for 
at  this  revelation,  he  felt  his  gullet  Salter  than  the 
sea. 

"And  you  who  spoke  to  him  of  his  wife's  adorers 
and  his  secret  malady!"  said  Mistigris  to  Oscar. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  the  manager's  wife  ex- 
claimed, as  she  looked  at  the  two  artists,  who  went 
off  laughing  at  Oscar's  appearance. 

Oscar  remained  mute,  thunderstruck,  stupefied, 
deaf  to  everything,  though  Madame  Moreau  ques- 
tioned him  and  shook  him  violently  by  that  one  of 
his  arms  which  she  had  taken  hold  of  and  which 
she  pinched  hard;    but  she  was  obliged  to  leave 


A  START   IN   LIFE  I41 

Oscar  in  her  parlor  without  having  got  any  reply 
from  him,  for  Rosalie  called  her  again  to  get  linen 
and  silverware,  and  for  her  to  watch  herself  over 
the  carrying  out  of  the  multiplied  orders  that  the 
count  gave.  The  hands,  the  gardeners,  the  gate- 
keeper and  his  wife,  everybody  was  going  and  com- 
ing in  a  state  of  confusion  that  may  be  easily 
imagined.  The  master  had  fallen  among  them  like 
a  bomb.  From  the  top  of  La  Cave  the  count  had, 
indeed,  by  a  path  with  which  he  was  familiar, 
reached  his  caretaker's  house,  and  had  arrived 
there  long  before  Moreau.  The  caretaker  was  dum- 
founded  on  seeing  the  real  master. 

"Is  Moreau  there,  isn't  that  his  horse?"  Monsieur 
de  Serizy  asked. 

"No,  my  lord;  but,  as  he  has  to  go  to  the  Mouli- 
neaux  before  dinner,  he  has  left  his  horse  here  in 
the  meantime  while  he  is  giving  some  orders  at  the 
chateau." 

The  caretaker  did  not  know  the  bearing  of  this 
reply,  which,  in  the  present  circumstances,  to  the 
perception  of  a  clear-sighted  man,  was  equivalent 
to  a  certainty. 

"If  you  value  your  place,"  said  the  count  to  the 
caretaker,  "you  will  go  in  hot  haste  to  Beaumont  on 
this  horse,  and  you  will  give  to  Monsieur  Margueron 
the  note  that  I  am  going  to  write." 

The  count  entered  the  pavilion,  wrote  a  few 
words,  folded  the  note  so  that  it  was  impossible  to 
unfold  it  without  detection,  and  gave  it  to  his  care- 
taker as  soon  as  he  saw  him  in  the  saddle. 


142  A  START  IN   LIFE 

"Not  a  word  to  a  living  soul !"  he  said.  "As  for 
you,  madame,"  he  added  speaking  to  the  caretaker's 
wife,  "if  Moreau  be  surprised  at  not  finding  his 
horse,  you  will  tell  him  that  I  took  it" 

And  the  count  hurried  into  his  park,  the  gate  of 
which  was  at  once  opened  for  him  at  a  sign  that  he 
gave. 

No   matter  how  broken  up  one  may  be  by  the  I 

turmoil  of  politics,  by  his  own  emotions,  or  by 
his  miscalculations,  the  soul  of  a  man  strong 
enough  still  to  love  at  the  count's  age  is  always 
young  to  treason.  So  much  did  it  cost  Monsieur  de 
Serizy  to  find  he  had  been  deceived  by  Moreau,  that 
at  Saint-Brice  he  believed  him  less  the  accomplice 
of  Leger  and  the  notary  than  their  tool.  And  so, 
on  the  inn  doorstep,  while  old  Leger  and  the  inn- 
keeper were  in  conversation,  he  still  thought  of 
pardoning  his  manager,  after  having  given  him  a 
salutary  rebuke.  Strange  to  say,  his  confidential 
man's  felony  occupied  his  thoughts  only  as  an 
episode,  from  the  moment  when  Oscar  had  revealed 
the  glorious  infirmities  of  the  intrepid  worker,  the 
administrator  under  Napoleon.  Secrets  so  well 
kept  could  have  been  betrayed  only  by  Moreau, 
who  no  doubt  had  spoken  disparagingly  of  his  bene- 
factor to  Madame  de  Serizy's  former  chambermaid 
or  to  the  former  Aspasia  of  the  Directory.  As  he 
rushed  into  the  cross  path,  that  peer  of  France,  that 
Minister,  had  wept  as  children  weep.  He  had  shed 
his  last  tears!  All  the  human  feelings  were  so 
directly  and  so  bitterly  attacked  at  the  same  time, 


A  START   IN  LIFE  143 

that  this  remarkably  calm  man  walked  in  his  park 
like  a  wounded  deer. 

When  Moreau  asked  for  his  horse,  the  caretaker's 
wife  answered : 

"The  count  has  just  taken  it." 

"Who,  the  count?"  he  exclaimed. 

"His  Lordship,  le  Comte  de  Serizy,  our  master," 
she  said.  "He  is  probably  at  the  chateau  by  this 
time,"  she  added  so  as  to  get  rid  of  the  manager, 
who,  not  at  all  understanding  this  event,  bent  his 
steps  toward  the  chateau. 

Moreau  soon  turned  back  to  question  the  care- 
taker's wife,  for  he  had  concluded  that  there  was 
something  serious  in  his  master's  secret  arrival  and 
odd  conduct.  The  caretaker's  wife,  frightened  at 
seeing  herself  caught,  as  it  were,  in  a  vise  between 
the  count  and  the  manager,  had  closed  the  pavilion 
and  shut  herself  up  in  it,  firmly  resolved  to  open 
it  only  to  her  husband.  Moreau,  growing  more 
restless  every  moment,  went,  despite  his  boots,  at 
a  running  pace  to  the  gate-house,  where  he  at  last 
learned  that  the  count  was  dressing.  Rosal  ie,  whom 
the  manager  met,  said  to  him : 

"Seven  persons  to  dine  with  His  Lordship — " 

Moreau  directed  his  course  towards  his  pavilion, 
and  then  saw  his  farm-yard  girl  in  altercation  with 
a  handsome  young  man. 

"The  count  said:  'Mina's  aide-de-camp,  a  colo- 
nel!'  "  the  poor  girl  exclaimed. 

"I'm  not  a  colonel,"  Georges  replied. 
'Well,  your  name  is  Georges.'*" 


il^ 


144  A  START  IN  LIFE 


^f^ 


'What's  the  matter  there?"  said  the  manager, 
intervening. 

"Sir,  my  name  is  Georges  Marest,  I  am  the  son 
of  a  rich  wholesale  hardware  merchant  in  the  Rue 
Saint-Martin,  and  have  come  on  business  with  the 
Comte  de  Serizy,  representing  Master  Crottat, 
notary,  whose  second  clerk  I  am." 

"And  as  for  me,  I  repeat  to  the  gentleman  that  His 
Lordship  has  just  said  to  me:  *A  colonel  is  about  to 
present  himself;  his  name  is  Czerni-Georges,  aide- 
de-camp  to  Mina;  hecameon  the  Pierrotin  coach;  if 
he  asks  for  me,  show  him  into  the  waiting  parlor.'  " 

"You  mustn't  bandy  words  with  His  Lordship," 
said  the  manager;  "go,  sir.  But  why  did  His 
Lordship  come  here  without  having  notified  me  of 
his  arrival  ?  How  could  the  count  have  known  that 
you  have  traveled  in  the  Pierrotin  coach.?" 

"Evidently,"  said  the  clerk,  "the  count  is  the 
passenger  who,  if  a  young  man  had  not  obliged  him, 
was  going  to  share  the  driver's  seat  of  the  Pierrotin 
coach." 

"The  driver's  seat  of  the  Pierrotin  coach.-"*  the 
manager  and  the  farm-yard  girl  exclaimed. 

"1  am  sure  of  it,  precisely  because  of  what  this 
girl  has  told  me,"  Georges  Marest  continued. 

"And  why?"  remarked  Moreau. 

"Ah!  in  this  way,"  exclaimed  the  clerk.  "So 
as  to  mystify  the  passengers,  I  spun  them  a  lot  of 
yarns  about  Egypt,  Greece  and  Spain.  I  had  on 
spurs,  I  represented  myself  as  a  cavalry  colonel,  a 
laughable  story." 


A  START  IN  LIFE  145 

"Let  us  see, "  said  Moreau.  "What  does  the  pas- 
senger look  like  who,  in  your  opinion,  is  the 
count  ?*' 

"Well,"  said  Georges,  "he  has  a  face  like  a 
brick,  entirely  white  hair  and  black  eyebrows." 

"It  is  he!" 

"I  am  ruined!"  said  Georges  Marest. 

"Why?" 

"1  teased  him  about  his  decorations." 

"Bah!  he  is  too  good-natured,  you  only  amused 
him.  Come  at  once  to  the  chateau,"  said  Moreau, 
"I  am  going  up  to  see  His  Lordship.  Where,  then, 
did  the  count  leave  you?" 

"On  the  top  of  the  hill." 

"I  am  ruined,"  Moreau  exclaimed. 

"After  all,  I  humbugged  him,  but  I  did  not  insult 
him,"  the  clerk  said  to  himself. 

"And  why  have  you  come?"  the  manager  asked. 

"Well,  I  bring  the  deed  of  sale  for  the  Mouli- 
neaux  farm,  all  ready." 

"My  God!"  the  manager  exclaimed,  "I  can't  un- 
derstand it." 

Moreau  felt  his  heart  beat  so  as  to  pain  him 
when,  after  having  knocked  twice  on  his  master's 
door,  he  heard : 

'Is  that  you,  Monsieur  Moreau  ?" 
'Yes,  my  lord." 

"Come  in!" 

The   count  had  put  on  white  trousers  and   fine 
boots,    a   white    waistcoat    and   a   black    coat   on 
which    shone,   on    the    right   side,  the  star  of  the 
10 


"1 


If 


146  A  START  IN   LIFE 

Grand  Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor ;  on  the  left,  from 
a  buttonhole,  hung  the  Golden  Fleece  at  the  end  of 
a  gold  chain.  The  blue  ribbon  was  very  conspic- 
uous on  the  waistcoat.  He  had  arranged  his  hair 
himself,  and  had  no  doubt  thus  harnessed  himself 
in  order  to  do  the  honors  of  Presles  to  Margueron 
and  perhaps  to  make  the  prestige  of  greatness 
have  its  effect  on  this  good  man. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  the  count  as  he  remained  seated 
and  leftMoreau  standing,  "we  cannot  come  to  terms 
with  Margueron,  then.?" 

"At  present  he  would  sell  his  farm  too  high." 

"But  why  wouldn't  he  come?"  said  the  count, 
affecting  a  dreamy  air. 

"He  is  sick,  my  lord — " 

"You're  sure  of  that?" 

"I've  been  there — " 

"Sir,"  said  the  count  as  he  assumed  a  severe 
tone  that  was  terrible,  "what  would  you  do  to  a 
trusted  man  who  would  see  you  dressing  a  sore  that 
you  keep  secret,  if  he  went  and  made  it  a  matter  of 
jest  to  a  strumpet?" 

"I  would  knock  him  down." 

"And  if  you  saw,  besides,  that  he  is  deceiving 
your  confidence  and  robbing  you?" 

"1  would  try  to  take  him  by  surprise  and  would 
send  him  to  the  galleys." 

"Listen,  Monsieur  Moreau !  you  have  undoubtedly 
spoken  of  my  infirmities  at  Madame  Clapart's,  and 
you  have  laughed  in  her  house,  with  her,  at  my 
love  for  the  Comtesse  de  Serizy ;  for,  this  morning. 


A  START  IN  LIFE  I47 

little  Husson  informed  tiie  passengers  in  a  public 
coach  of  a  multitude  of  circumstances  relative  to  my 
remedies,  in  my  presence,  and  God  knows  in  what 
language!  He  dared  to  calumniate  my  wife.  In 
fme,  I  learned  from  old  Leger's  own  lips,  as  he  was 
returning  from  Paris  in  the  Pierrotin  coach,  the  plan 
formed  by  the  Beaumont  notary,  by  you  and  by 
himself,  relative  to  the  Moulineaux.  If  you  have 
been  to  Monsieur  Margueron's,  it  was  to  tell  him 
to  play  sicl<;  he  is  so  slightly  so  that  I  am  expect- 
ing him  to  dinner,  and  that  he  will  come.  Well, 
sir,  1  have  forgiven  you  for  having  a  fortune  of  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs,  saved  in  seven- 
teen years — I  understand  that.  You  might  have 
asked  each  time  for  what  you  have  taken  from  me, 
or  what  was  offered  to  you,  and  I  would  have  given 
it  to  you:  you  are  the  father  of  a  family.  You 
were,  in  your  indelicacy,  better  than  some  one  else, 
1  do  believe — But,  you  who  know  the  work  that  I 
have  done  for  the  country,  for  France,  you  have 
seen  me  sitting  up  a  hundred  and  some  odd  nights 
for  the  Emperor,  or  working  eighteen  hours  a  day 
for  three  whole  months  at  a  time;  you  who  know 
how  much  I  love  Madame  de  Serizy,  to  have  gab- 
bled about  it  before  a  child,  to  have  exposed  my 
secrets,  my  affection,  to  the  ridicule  of  a  Madame 
Husson — " 

"My  lord—" 

"It  is  unpardonable.  To  injure  a  man  in  his  in- 
terests is  nothing;  but  to  attack  him  in  his  heart! 
— Oh!  you  do  not  know  what  you  have  done!" 


148  A  START  IN  LIFE 

The  count  put  his  head  between  his  hands  and 
remained  silent  for  a  moment. 

"I  leave  you  what  you  have,"  he  continued, 
"and  I  will  forget  you.  For  dignity's  sal<e,  for  me, 
for  your  own  honor,  we  will  part  in  peace,  for  I  re- 
call at  this  moment  what  your  father  did  for  mine. 
You  will  arrange  matters,  and  satisfactorily,  with 
Monsieur  de  Reybert,  who  succeeds  you.  Be  calm, 
as  I  am.  Do  not  make  a  silly  show  of  yourself. 
Especially,  no  scolding  and  no  trifling.  If  you  no 
longer  have  my  confidence,  try  to  observe  the 
decorum  of  rich  folks.  As  for  that  little  idiot  who 
came  near  killing  me,  he  must  not  sleep  at  Presles! 
send  him  to  the  inn,  I  would  not  answer  for  my 
wrath  were  I  to  see  him." 

"1  did  not  deserve  such  mild  treatment,  my  lord," 
said  Moreau  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  "Yes,  if  I  had 
been  thoroughly  dishonest,  I  would  have  five  hun- 
dred thousand  francs  to  myself;  besides,  I  offer  to 
give  you  an  account  of  my  fortune,  and  to  explain 
it  to  you  in  detail!  But  let  me  tell  you,  my  lord, 
that  when  talking  about  you  to  Madame  Clapart,  it 
was  never  in  derision,  but,  on  the  contrary,  to  de- 
plore your  condition,  and  to  ask  her  if  she  did  not 
know  of  some  remedies,  unknown  to  the  physicians, 
that  are  in  use  among  the  lower  classes — I  conversed 
about  your  feelings  in  the  presence  of  the  little  fel- 
low when  he  was  asleep — it  appears  that  he  was 
listening  to  us, — but  it  was  always  in  terms  full  of 
affection  and  respect.  Misfortune  wills  that  indis- 
cretions be  punished  as  crimes.     But,  while  I  accept 


A  START   IN   LIFE  1 49 

the  effects  of  your  just  wrath,  know  at  least  how 
things  happened.  Oh!  it  was  as  between  heart 
and  heart  that  I  spoke  of  you  to  Madame  Clapart 
In  fine,  you  may  question  my  wife,  we  have  never 
spoken  of  these  things  to  one  another — " 

"Enough,"  said  the  count,  who  was  thoroughly 
convinced,  "we  are  not  children;  everything  is 
irrevocable.  Go  and  put  your  affairs  and  mine  in 
order.  You  can  remain  in  the  pavilion  until 
October.  Monsieur  and  Madame  de  Reybert  will 
lodge  in  the  chateau;  especially,  try  to  live  with 
them  like  decent  folk,  who  hate  each  other  but  keep 
up  appearances." 

The  count  and  Moreau  went  down,  Moreau  as 
white  as  the  count's  hair,  the  count  calm  and 
dignified. 

During  this  scene,  the  Beaumont  coach  that  left 
Paris  at  one  o'clock  had  stopped  at  the  gate  and  let 
out  for  the  chateau  Master  Crottat,  who,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  order  given  by  the  count,  was  waiting 
in  the  parlor,  where  he  found  his  clerk  exceedingly 
crestfallen,  in  company  with  the  two  painters,  all 
three  of  them  embarrassed  by  their  impersonations. 
Monsieur  de  Reybert,  a  man  of  fifty  with  snappish 
countenance,  had  come  accompanied  by  old  Mar- 
gueron  and  the  Beaumont  notary,  who  was  holding 
a  pile  of  documents  and  titles.  When  all  these  per- 
sonages saw  the  count  make  his  appearance  in 
statesman's  costume,  Georges  Marest  had  a  slight 
feeling  of  colic,  Joseph  Bridau  jumped;  but  Mis- 
tigris,    who  was  in  his  Sunday  clothes  and  who, 


I50  A  START  IN   LIFE 

moreover,    had    nothing  to  reproach  himself  with, 
said  in  a  rather  loud  voice: 

"Weil,  he  is  infinitely  better  like  that" 

"Funny  little  man,"  said  the  count  as  he  pulled 
him  to  him  by  the  ear,  "both  of  us  are  doing  some 
decorating.  Have  you  recognized  your  work,  my 
dear  Schinner?"  the  count  continued  as  he  called 
the  artist's  attention  to  the  ceiling. 

"My  lord,"  the  artist  replied,  "I  was  wrong  in 
arrogating  a  famous  name  to  myself  out  of  bravado; 
but  this  day  obliges  me  to  do  some  fine  work  for  you 
and  to  make  the  name  of  Joseph  Bridau  famous." 

"You  took  my  part,"  the  count  said  in  an  ani- 
mated way,  "and  I  hope  that  you  will  give  me  the 
pleasure  of  dining  with  me,  as  well  as  our  witty 
Mistigris." 

"Your  Lordship  does  not  know  to  what  you  are 
exposing  yourself,"  said  the  cheeky  grinder.  "  *A 
hungry  felly  has  no  ears.'  " 

"Bridau!"  the  minister  exclaimed  as  if  struck 
by  a  remembrance,  "are  you  related  to  one  of  the 
most  ardent  workers  under  the  Empire,  a  head  of  a 
division  who  fell  a  victim  to  his  zeal  ?" 

"His  son,  my  lord,"  Joseph  replied,  bowing. 

"You  are  welcome  here,"  the  count  replied  as  he 
took  the  painter's  hand  in  both  his  own;  "I  knew 
your  father,  and  you  may  count  on  me  as  on  an — 
American  uncle, "  Monsieur  de  Serizy  added,smiling. 
"But  you  are  too  young  to  have  pupils:  to  whom, 
then,  does  Mistigris  belong?" 

"To  my  friend  Schinner,  who  has  loaned  him  to 


A  START  IN  LIFE  151 

me,"  Joseph  continued.  "Mistigris's  name  is  Leon 
de  Lora.  My  lord,  if  you  remember  my  fattier, 
deign  to  tliink  of  that  one  of  his  sons  who  is  accused 
of  a  plot  against  the  State  and  brought  before  the 
Court  of  Peers — " 

"Ah!  true,"  said  the  count;  "I  will  think  of 
that,  depend  upon  it.  As  for  Prince  Czerni-Georges, 
Ali  Pasha's  friend,  Mina's  aide-de-camp,"  said  the 
count  as  he  advanced  towards  Georges, 

"He? — my  second  clerk!"  Crottat  exclaimed. 

"You  are  in  error.  Master  Crottat,"  said  the 
count  in  a  severe  tone.  "A  clerk  who  wants  some 
day  to  be  a  notary  does  not  leave  important  docu- 
ments in  stage-coaches  at  the  mercy  of  the  passen- 
gers !  a  clerk  who  wants  to  be  a  notary  does  not 
spend  twenty  francs  between  Paris  and  Moisselles! 
a  clerk  who  wants  to  be  a  notary  does  not  expose 
himself  to  being  arrested  as  a  deserter — " 

"My  lord,"  said  Georges  Marest,  "I  was  able  to 
amuse  myself  by  mystifying  bourgeois  on  a  jour- 
ney; but — " 

"Now  let  His  Excellency  speak,"  his  employer 
said  to  him  as  he  gave  him  a  violent  elbow  nudge 
in  the  ribs. 

"A  notary  ought  early  in  life  to  have  discretion, 
prudence,  shrewdness,  and  not  to  take  a  Minister  of 
State  for  a  chandler — " 

"I  confess  my  faults  and  am  sorry  for  them,  but  I 
did  not  leave  my  papers  at  the  mercy — "  said 
Georges. 

"You  are  at  this  moment  committing  the  fault  of 


152  A  START  IN  LIFE 

giving  the  lie  to  a  Minister  of  State,  to  a  peer  of 
France,  to  a  gentleman,  to  an  old  man,  to  a  client. 
Look  for  your  bill  of  sale!" 

The  clerk  rumpled  all  the  papers  in  his  port- 
folio. 

"Don't  disarrange  your  papers,"  said  the  Minis- 
ter of  State  as  he  drew  the  deed  from  his  pocket, 
"here's  what  you're  looking  for." 

Three  times  did  Crottat  turn  over  the  paper,  so 
surprised  was  he  at  having  received  it  from  his 
noble  client's  hands. 

"How  is  this,  sir?"  the  notary  at  last  said  to 
Georges. 

"If  I  had  not  taken  it,"  the  count  added,  "old 
Leger,  who  is  not  so  dumb  as  you  would  judge  him 
to  be  from  his  questions  on  agriculture,  for  he  proved 
to  you  that  every  one  should  stick  to  his  trade — old 
Leger  might  have  got  hold  of  it  and  seen  through  my 
plan — You  will  also  do  me  the  favor  of  dining  with 
me,  but  on  condition  that  you  tell  us  of  the  execu- 
tion of  the  mucelim  of  Smyrna,  and  you  will  finish 
for  us  the  memoirs  of  some  client  that  you  have  no 
doubt  read  in  public." 

"A  whip  for  a  quip,"  said  Leon  de  Lora  in  a  very 
low  voice  to  Joseph  Bridau. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  count  to  the  Beaumont 
notary,  Crottat,  and  Messieurs  Margueron  and  De 
Reybert,  "let  us  go  over  to  the  other  side,  we  will 
not  sit  down  to  table  without  having  finished;  for, 
as  my  friend  Mistigris  says:  'one  should  know  how 
io fold  one's  tongue  at  the  right  time.' 


>  >» 


A  START  IN   LIFE  153 

"Well,  he  is  a  rather  good-natured  chap,"  said 
Leon  de  Lora  to  Georges  Marest. 

"Yes,  but  my  employer  is  not  so,  not  he,  and  he 
will  ask  me  to  go  and  joke  somewhere  else." 

"Bah!  you  like  to  travel,"  said  Bridau. 

"What  a  lathering  the  little  fellow  is  going  to 
get  from  Monsieur  and  Madame  Moreau !"  Leon  de 
Lora  exclaimed. 

"A  little  imbecile,"  said  Georges.  "Without 
him  the  count  would  have  been  amused  It  is  all 
the  same,  the  lesson  is  a  good  one,  and  if  ever  any- 
one again  catches  me  talking  in  a  coach!" 

"Oh!  it's  very  stupid,"  said  Joseph  Bridau. 

"And  vulgar,"  remarked  Mistigris.  ''Talking  too 
much  follows,  moreover." 

While  business  was  being  transacted  between 
Monsieur  Margueron  and  the  Comte  de  Serizy,  each 
assisted  by  his  notary,  and  in  the  presence  of  Mon- 
sieur de  Reybert,  the  ex-manager  had  gone  at  a  slow 
pace  to  his  pavilion.  He  entered  it  without  seeing 
anything  and  sat  down  on  the  parlor  sofa,  where 
little  Husson  was  crouched  in  a  corner  out  of  sight, 
for  the  pallid  countenance  of  his  mother's  protector 
frightened  him. 

"Well,  my  dear,"  said  Estelle  as  she  entered 
rather  jaded  by  what  she  had  just  done,  "what  ails 
you,  then?" 

"My  dear,  we  are  ruined,  and  lost  beyond  recov- 
ery. No  longer  am  I  manager  of  Presles!  the 
count's  confidence  has  been  withdrawn!" 

"And  whence  comes — i*" 


154  A  START  IN  LIFE 

"Old  Leger,  who  was  in  Pierrotin's  coach,  gave 
him  to  understand  all  about  the  Moulineaux  affair; 
but  that  is  not  what  has  alienated  his  protection 
from  me  forever — " 

"What,  then?" 

"Oscar  has  spoken  badly  of  the  countess,  and 
has  revealed  the  ailments  of  monsieur — " 

"Oscar?"  Madame  Moreau  exclaimed.  "You  are 
punished,  my  dear,  by  that  wherein  you  sinned.  It 
was  indeed  the  trouble  of  nourishing  that  serpent 
within  your  bosom  ?     How  often  have  1  told  you — " 

"Enough!"  remarked  Moreau  in  a  trembling 
voice. 

At  that  moment,  Estelle  and  her  husband  discov- 
ered Oscar  huddled  in  a  corner.  Moreau  pounced 
on  the  unfortunate  youth  like  a  vulture  on  its  prey, 
grabbed  him  by  the  collar  of  his  littel  olive  overcoat 
and  brought  him  out  into  the  light  of  a  window, 

"Speak!  what  did  you  say,  then,  to  His  Lordship 
in  the  coach?  what  demon  unloosed  your  tongue, 
and  you  remain  as  if  stupefied  at  every  question  I 
ask  you?  What  was  your  idea?"  the  manager 
said  to  him  in  a  terrible  state  of  violence. 

Too  much  amazed  to  weep,  Oscar  kept  silent  and 
remained  immovable  as  a  statue. 

"Come  and  ask  His  Excellency's  pardon!"  said 
Moreau. 

"Can  His  Excellency  be  disturbed  by  such  ver- 
min?" exclaimed  Estelle,  furious. 

"Get  up,  come  to  the  chateau!"  Moreau  con- 
tinued. 


A  START  IN  LIFE  155 

Oscar  sank  like  an  inert  mass  and  fell  to  the 
floor. 

"Will  you  come!"  said  Moreau,  whose  wrath 
became  more  intense  every  moment 

"No !  no !  pardon !"  exclaimed  Oscar,  who  did  not 
want  to  submit  to  a  punishment  more  galling  to 
him  than  death. 

Moreau  then  took  Oscar  by  his  coat,  dragged  him 
as  if  he  were  a  corpse  through  the  courtyards, 
which  the  lad  filled  with  his  cries  and  sobs;  he 
dragged  him  up  the  steps,  and  with  an  arm  made 
stronger  by  rage,  he  threw  him  bellowing  and 
stiff  as  a  stake,  into  the  parlor,  at  the  feet  of  the 
count,  who  had  just  concluded  the  acquisition  of  the 
Moulineaux,  and  who  was  then  betaking  himself  to 
the  dining-room  along  with  the  entire  company. 

"On  your  knees!  on  your  knees!  you  wretch! 
Ask  pardon  of  him  who  has  given  you  the  bread 
of  life  by  obtaining  a  scholarship  for  you  in  the  col- 
lege!" Moreau  exclaimed. 

Oscar,  with  his  face  against  the  floor,  was  fuming 
with  rage  and  saying  not  a  word.  All  the  specta- 
tors trembled.  Moreau,  who  no  longer  contained 
himself,  presented  a  face  suffused  with  blood  that 
his  passion  had  injected  into  it 

"This,  young  man,  isonly  vanity,"  said  the  count 
after  having  waited  in  vain  for  Oscar's  excuses. 
"One  who  is  proud,  humbles  himself,  for  there  is 
greatness  in  certain  humiliations.  I  am  very  much 
afraid  that  you  will  never  make  anything  of  this 
boy." 


V 


156  A  START  IN  LIFE 

And  the  Minister  of  State  passed  on.  Moreau 
took  hold  of  Oscar  again  and  led  him  back  to  his 
house.  While  the  horses  were  being  yoked  to  the 
road-wagon  he  wrote  the  following  letter  to  Madame 
Clapart: 

"My  Dear, 

"Oscar  has  just  ruined  me.    During  his  journey  in  the 
Pierrotin  coach,  this  morning,  he  spoke  of  the  countess's 
levities  to  His  Excellency  himself,  who  was  traveling  mcog- 
nito,  and  told  the  count  himself  his  secrets  regarding  his 
terrible  malady  that  he  contracted  through  his  spending  so 
many  nights  at  work  in  his  various  offices.    After  having 
deposed  me,  the  count  instructed  me  not  to  let  Oscar  sleep 
at  Presles,  but  to  send  him  away.    And  so,  in  obedience  to 
him,  I  am  at  this  moment  having  my  horses  yoked  to  my 
wife's  road-wagon,  and  Brochon,  my  stable-boy,  is  going  to 
bring  this  little  wretch  back  to  you.    You  may  imagine  in 
what  a  state  of  desolation  my  wife  and  I  are,  and  1  will  not 
describe  it  to  you.    In  a  few  days  I  will  go  and  see  you,  for  I 
must  do  something.     I  have  three  children,  1  must  think  of 
the  future,  and  I  know  not  yet  what  to  decide,  for  my  inten- 
tion is  to  show  the  count  what  seventeen  years  are  worth  in 
the  life  of  a  man  like  me.      Worth  two  hundred  and  sixty 
thousand  francs,  I  mean  to  attain  a  fortune  that  will  enable 
me  to  be  some  day  almost  His  Excellency's  equal.    At  this 
moment  I  feel  myself  capable  of  moving  mountains,  of  over- 
coming insurmountable  difficulties.    What  a  lever  a  scene  of 
such  humiliation  is!    What  blood,  then,  has  Oscar  in  his 
veins?    I  cannot  compliment  you  on  him,  his  conduct  is  that 
of  a  noodle.    Just  as  I  am  writing  to  you  he  has  not  yet  been 
able  to  utter  a  word,  nor  to  answer  any  of  my  wife's  ques- 
tions or  mine— is  he  about  to  become  an  imbecile  or  is  he  one 
already?    My  friend,  you  did  not  then  teach  him  his  lesson 
before  sending  him  out?    How  much  misfortune  you  would 
have  spared  me  by  accompanying  him,  as  I  had  asked  you! 


A  START  IN  LIFE  157 

If  Estelle  frightened  you,  you  could  have  remained  at  Mois- 
selles.     In  fine,  all  is  said.     Adieu,  we  shall  meet  shortly. 

"  Your  devoted  servant  and  friend, 

"MOREAU." 

At  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  Madame  Clapart 
on  returning  from  a  short  walk  with  her  husband, 
was  knitting  winter  stockings  for  Oscar  by  the 
light  of  a  single  candle.  Monsieur  Clapart  was 
waiting  for  one  of  his  friends,  named  Poiret, 
who  sometimes  came  to  play  dominoes  with 
him,  for  never  did  he  take  the  chance  of  spending 
the  evening  in  a  cafe.  In  spite  of  the  prudence  im- 
posed on  him  by  the  moderateness  of  his  income, 
Clapart  could  not  answer  for  his  temperance  amid 
the  articles  of  consumption  and  in  company  with 
the  regular  customers,  whose  raillery  would  have 
stirred  him  up. 

"I'm  afraid  Poiret  is  not  coming,"  said  Clapart 
to  his  wife. 

"But,  my  friend,  the  portress  would  have  told  us 
so,"  Madame  Clapart  replied. 

"She  may  have  forgotten  it!" 

"Why  do  you  think  she  forgets  it?" 

"It  wouldn't  be  the  first  time  she  had  forgotten 
something  for  us;  for  God  knows  how  they  treat 
folks  that  are  without  an  equipage!" 

"At  last,"  said  the  poor  woman  so  as  to  change 
the  conversation  and  try  to  escape  Clapart's  thrusts, 
"Oscar  is  now  at  Presles;  he  will  be  very  happy 
on  that  fine  estate,  in  that  fine  park—" 


158  A  START  IN  LIFE 

"Yes,  expect  fine  things  of  him,"  Clapart  re- 
plied; "he  will  wrangle  there." 

"Will  you  not  stop  wishing  so  ill  of  that  poor 
youth?  what  has  he  done  to  you?  Well !  my  God, 
if  some  day  we  are  in  comfortable  circumstances, 
perhaps  we  will  owe  it  to  him,  for  he  is  good- 
hearted — " 

"By  the  time  that  chap  succeeds  in  the  world, 
our  bones  will  long  have  been  reduced  to  gelatine," 
Clapart  exclaimed.  "He  will  have  changed  very 
much,  then !  But  you  do  not  know  him,  being  your 
own  child:  he  is  a  boaster,  a  liar,  an  idler,  an 
imbecile — " 

"Suppose  you  were  going  on  that  way  in  Mon- 
sieur Poiret's  hearing?"  the  poor  mother  said, 
stabbed  to  the  heart  by  this  diatribe  that  she  had 
invited. 

"A  boy  who  never  won  a  prize  in  his  class!" 
Clapart  exclaimed. 

In  the  estimation  of  those  of  the  middle-class,  to 
carry  off  prizes  in  class  is  the  certainty  of  a  fine 
future  for  a  boy. 

"Did  you  get  any?"  his  wife  said  to  him.  "And 
Oscar  secured  the  fourth  place  in  philosophy." 

This  apostrophe  imposed  silence  for  a  moment  on 
Clapart. 

"And  on  that  account  Madame  Moreau  ought  to 
love  him  like  a  nail,  you  know  where!  She  will 
try  to  make  her  husband  find  fault  with  him — Oscar 
become  manager  of  Preslesi" — He  must  know  land- 
surveying,  get  acquainted  with  husbandry — " 


f 


A  START  IN  LIFE  1 59 

"He  will  learn." 

"He?  the  caterwaul er!  Let  us  guess,  if  he  were 
in  a  position,  a  week  would  not  pass  before  he 
,  would  commit  some  stupidity  that  would  get  him 
dismissed  by  the  Comte  de  Serizy?" 

"My  God,  how  can  you  be  so  bitter  against  the 
future  of  a  poor  youth  full  of  good  qualities,  as  sweet 
as  an  angel,  and  incapable  of  doing  evil  to  anyone 
whomsoever  ?" 

At  that  moment,  the  cracks  of  a  postilion's  whip, 
the  noise  of  a  road-wagon  at  full  trot,  the  prancing 
of  two  horses  that  stopped  at  the  gate  of  the  house, 
had  set  the  Rue  de  la  Cerisaie  in  commotion.  Cla- 
part,  who  heard  all  the  windows  opening,  went  out 
on  the  square. 

"They  are  bringing  Oscar  back  to  you  post 
haste!"  he  exclaimed  in  a  tone  in  which  his  satis- 
faction was  concealed  under  real  anxiety. 

"Oh!  my  God,  what  has  happened  to  him.!*" 
said  the  poor  mother,  who  was  seized  with  a  trem- 
bling that  shook  her  as  a  leaf  is  shaken  by  the 
autumn  wind. 

Brochon  went  up,  followed  by  Oscar  and  Poiret 

"My  God!  what  has  happened?"  the  mother  re- 
peated, addressing  the  stable-boy. 

"I  do  not  know,  but  Monsieur  Moreau  is  no  longer 
manager  of  Presles;  they  say  it  is  your  son  who  is 
the  cause  of  it,  and  His  Lordship  has  ordered  that 
he  be  sent  back  to  you.  Moreover,  here's  that  poor 
Monsieur  Moreau's  letter  to  you,  and  he  is  so 
changed,  madame,  as  to  make  one  pity  him." 


l60  A  START  IN  LIFE 

"Clapart,  two  glasses  of  wine  for  the  postilion 
and  for  the  gentleman,"  said  the  mother,  who  went 
and  threw  herself  into  an  armchair,  where  she  read 
the  fatal  letter.  "Oscar,"  she  said,  as  she  drew 
him  towards  her  bed,  "you  want  to  kill  your 
mother,  then  ? — After  all  that  I  said  this  morn- 
ing!" 

Madame  Clapart  did  not  finish  her  sentence,  she 
fainted  from  grief,  Oscar  remained  stupefied,  stand- 
ing. Madame  Clapart  regained  consciousness  on 
hearing  her  husband  say  to  Oscar  as  he  shook  him 
by  the  arm : 

"Will  you  answer?" 

"Go  and  get  ready  for  bed,  sir,"  she  said  to  her 
son.  "And  let  him  alone.  Monsieur  Clapart,  and 
do  not  drive  him  crazy,  for  he  is  so  changed  as  to 
excite  alarm." 

Oscar  did  not  hear  his  mother's  remark,  he  went 
to  bed  as  soon  as  he  received  orders  to  do  so. 

All  who  recall  their  later  youth,  will  not  be  as- 
tonished to  learn  that  after  a  day  so  full  of  emotions 
and  events  Oscar  slept  the  sleep  of  the  just,  despite 
the  enormity  of  his  faults.  Next  day  he  did  not 
find  nature  so  changed  as  he  expected,  and  he  was 
astonished  at  being  hungry,  he  who  regarded  him- 
self the  evening  before  as  unworthy  to  live.  He 
had  suffered  only  morally.  At  that  age,  the  moral 
impressions  succeed  one  another  too  rapidly  for  one 
to  be  weakened  by  another,  no  matter  how  deeply 
graven  the  first  may  be.  And  so,  the  system  of 
corporal  punishments,  though  philanthropists  have 


THE  COUNT,  MOREA  U  AND  OSCAR 


Moreau  then  took  Oscar  by  his  coat,  dragged 
him  as  if  he  ivere  a  corpse  tlirongli  the  courtyards, 
zvhich  the  lad  filled  ivitli  his  cries  and  sobs ;  lie 
dragged  hivi  7ip  the  steps,  and  zvitli  an  arm  made 
stronger  by  rage,  he  threzv  him  bellozving  and  stiff 
as  a  stake,  into  the  parlor,  at  the  feet  of  the  count. 


'^-9V- 


A  START  IN  LIFE  l6l 

vigorously  attacked  them  in  these  later  times,  is 
necessary  for  children  in  certain  cases;  and,  more- 
over, it  is  the  most  natural,  for  nature  does  not 
proceed  otherwise,  she  makes  use  of  pain  to  make 
upon  us  a  durable  impression  of  her  teachings.  If, 
to  the  unfortunately  passing  shame  that  had  seized 
upon  Oscar  the  day  before,  the  manager  had  added 
an  afflictive  punishment,  perhaps  the  lesson  would 
have  been  complete.  The  discernment  with  which 
corrections  ought  to  be  used  is  the  strongest  argu- 
ment against  them;  for  nature  is  never  deceived, 
while  the  preceptor  must  often  err. 

Madame  Clapart  had  been  careful  to  send  her 
husband  out,  so  that  she  might  be  alone  during  the 
morning  with  her  son.  She  was  in  a  pitiful  state. 
Her  eyes  softened  by  tears,  her  expression  fatigued 
by  a  sleepless  night,  her  weakened  voice,  every- 
thing about  her  asked  pardon  by  showing  an  exces- 
sive sorrow  that  she  could  not  have  borne  a  second 
time.  On  seeing  Oscar  enter,  she  made  a  sign  to 
him  to  sit  alongside  of  her,  and  reminded  him  in  a 
mild  but  penetrating  tone  of  the  favors  received 
from  the  manager  of  Presles.  She  told  Oscar  that, 
for  six  years  especially,  she  was  living  on  Moreau's 
ingenious  charities.  Monsieur  Clapart's  place,  due 
to  the  Comte  de  Serizy,  as  well  as  the  half-scholar- 
ship, by  the  aid  of  which  Oscar  had  finished  his 
education,  would  cease  sooner  or  later.  Clapart 
could  not  pretend  to  a  pension,  not  counting  a  suf- 
ficient number  of  years  in  the  Treasury  or  in  the 
City  to  obtain  one  from  it.  As  soon  as  Monsieur 
II 


l62  A  START  IN   LIFE 

Clapart  would  lose  his  place,  what  would  become  of 
them  all  ? 

"As  for  me,"  she  said,  "should  I  have  to  take  to 
nursing  the  sick  or  becoming  manager  in  a  big 
house,  I  would  be  able  to  earn  my  bread  and  support 
Monsieur  Clapart.  But  as  for  you,"  she  said  to 
Oscar,  "what  will  you  do?  You  have  no  fortune, 
and  you  must  make  your  own,  for  it  is  necessary  to 
be  able  to  live.  There  are  only  four  great  careers 
for  you  young  people — trade,  government,  the  priv- 
ileged professions  and  the  military  service.  Any 
branch  of  trade  requires  capital,  and  we  have  none 
to  give  you.  For  want  of  capital,  a  young  man 
brings  his  devotedness,  his  capacity;  but  trade 
means  great  discretion,  and  your  conduct  of  yester- 
day does  not  give  me  any  hope  that  you  would  suc- 
ceed in  it.  To  enter  a  public  department  one  must 
serve  for  a  long  time  as  a  supernumerary  there, 
have  backing  in  it,  and  you  have  alienated  the  only 
protector  that  we  had,  and  the  most  powerful  of  all. 
Moreover,  suppose  that  you  were  endowed  with  the 
most  extraordinary  means  by  the  aid  of  which  a 
young  man  gets  there  at  once,  either  in  trade  or  in 
a  government  office,  where  would  you  get  the  money 
to  feed  and  clothe  yourself  during  the  time  that  one 
spends  in  learning  his  duties  i*" 

Here  the  mother,  like  all  women,  gave  herself  up 
to  verbose  lamentations:  how  was  she  to  get  along, 
deprived  of  the  assistance  in  kind  that  the  manage- 
ment of  Presles  enabled  Moreau  to  send  her?  Oscar 
had  destroyed  her  protector's  fortune.     After  trade 


A  START  IN  LIFE  163 

and  the  government,  careers  of  which  her  son  must 
not  dream,  because  of  inability  on  her  part  to  sup- 
port him,  came  the  privileged  professions  of  the 
notaryship,  the  bar,  attorneys  and  constables.  But 
he  would  have  to  take  his  course  in  law,  study  for 
three  years,  and  pay  considerable  sums  for  en- 
trance fees,  examinations,  theses  and  diplomas;  the 
large  number  of  aspirants  compelled  one  to  distin- 
guish one's  self  by  superior  talent;  in  fme,  the 
question  of  Oscar's  support  was  ever  uppermost  in 
her  mind. 

"Oscar,"  she  said  in  closing,  "I  had  centred  all 
my  pride  and  all  my  life  in  you.  In  accepting  an 
unhappy  old  age,  I  set  my  eyes  on  you,  I  saw  you 
embracing  a  fme  career  and  succeeding  in  it.  This 
hope  gave  me  courage  to  bear  up  against  the  priva- 
tions that  I  have  suffered  for  six  years  past  to  keep 
you  at  college,  where  you  still  cost  us  seven  or 
eight  hundred  francs  a  year,  in  spite  of  the  half- 
scholarship.  Now  that  my  hope  has  vanished,  your 
fate  frightens  me!  1  cannot  dispose  of  a  sou  out  of 
Monsieur  Clapart's  salary  for  my  son  or  for  myself. 
What  are  you  going  to  do?  You  are  not  strong 
enough  in  mathematics  to  enter  the  special  schools, 
and,  moreover,  where  would  1  get  the  three  thou- 
sand francs  for  board  that  they  require?  There  is 
life  as  it  is,  my  boy!  You  are  eighteen  years  old 
and  you  are  strong,  enlist  as  a  soldier,  that  will  be 
the  only  way  of  earning  your  bread — " 

Oscar  as  yet  knew  nothing  of  life.  Like  all 
children  from  whom  care  has  been  taken  to  conceal 


l64  A  START  IN  LIFE 

the  poverty  of  the  home,  he  was  ignorant  of  the 
necessity  of  making  his  fortune;  the  word  trade 
conveyed  no  idea  to  him,  and  the  word  government 
did  not  tell  him  much,  for  lie  did  not  perceive  its 
results;  he  listened,  then,  with  a  dutiful  mien, 
which  he  tried  to  make  submissive,  to  his  mother's 
remonstrances,  but  they  were  lost  in  vacuum. 
Nevertheless,  the  idea  of  being  a  soldier  and  the 
tears  that  rolled  from  his  mother's  eyes  made  that 
boy  weep.  As  soon  as  Madame  Clapart  saw 
Oscar's  cheeks  furrowed  with  tears,  her  strength 
failed  her;  and,  like  all  mothers  in  such  cases,  she 
had  recourse  to  the  peroration  that  ends  crises  of 
this  sort,  in  which  they  suffer,  at  the  same  time, 
their  own  sorrows  and  those  of  their  children. 

"Come,  Oscar,  promise  me  that  you  will  be  dis- 
creet in  future,  never  again  to  speak  wrongfully  or 
disparagingly,  to  repress  your  foolish  pride,"  etc., 
etc. 

Oscar  promised  all  that  his  mother  asked  him  to 
promise,  and,  after  having  drawn  him  gently  to  her, 
Madame  Clapart  ended  by  embracing  him  so  as  to 
console  him  for  having  been  scolded. 

"Now,"  she  said,  "you  will  listen  to  your 
mother,  you  will  follow  her  advice,  for  a  mother 
can  give  only  good  advice  to  her  son.  We  will  go 
to  your  uncle  Cardot's.  There  lies  our  last  hope. 
Cardot  owed  much  to  your  father,  who,  by  giving 
him  his  sister,  Mademoiselle  Husson,  with  a  dowry 
that  was  enormous  for  that  time,  enabled  him  to 
make  a  great  fortune  in  the  silk  trade.     I  think  he 


A  START  IN   LIFE  165 

will  get  you  a  place  with  Monsieur  Camusot,  his 
successor  and  son-in-law,  in  the  Rue  des  Bourdon- 
nais — But,  you  see,  your  uncle  Cardot  has  four 
children.  He  gave  his  establishment  of  the  Cocon 
d'Or  to  his  eldest  daughter,  Madame  Camusot.  If 
Camusot  has  millions,  he  also  has  four  children,  by 
two  different  wives,  and  he  scarcely  knows  of  our 
existence.  Cardot  married  Marianne,  his  second 
daughter,  to  Monsieur  Protez,  of  the  firm  of  Protez 
and  Chiffreville.  The  office  of  his  eldest  son,  the 
notary,  cost  four  hundred  thousand  francs,  and  he 
has  just  got  Joseph  Cardot,  his  second  son,  as  a 
partner  into  the  Matifat  drug  house.  Your  uncle 
Cardot  will  have  many  reasons,  then,  not  to  be 
concerned  about  you,  whom  he  sees  four  times  a 
year.  He  has  never  come  to  pay  a  visit  here;  while 
he  knew  well,  indeed  did  he,  how  to  come  to  see  me 
at  Madame  Mare's,  to  get  the  furniture  of  their  Im- 
perial Highnesses,  of  the  Emperor  and  the  great 
ones  of  his  court.  Now  the  Camusots  go  to  ex- 
tremes! Camusot  married  his  son  by  his  first  wife 
to  the  daughter  of  an  usher  of  the  king's  cabinet! 
Society  is  well  humped  when  it  stoops !  In  fine,  it 
is  shrewd,  for  the  Cocon  d'Or  has  the  custom  of  the 
court  under  the  Bourbons  as  under  the  Emperor. 
To-morrow,  then,  we  will  go  to  your  uncle  Cardot's, 
and  1  hope  you  will  know  how  to  behave  yourself 
as  you  ought;  for  there,  I  repeat,  is  our  last  hope." 


I'  ■ 


* 

Monsieur  Jean-Jerome-Severin  Cardot  had  six 
years  before  lost  his  wife,  Mademoiselle  Husson,  to 
whom  the  purveyor,  in  the  time  of  his  splendor,  had 
given  a  hundred  thousand  francs  dowry  in  cash.  Car- 
dot,  the  chief  clerk  of  the  Cocon  d' Or,  one  of  the  oldest 
houses  in  Paris,  had  bought  this  establishment  in 
1793,  at  the  time  when  its  patrons  were  ruined  by 
the  maximum;  and  the  money  of  Mademoiselle 
Husson's  dowry  had  enabled  him  to  make  an  almost 
colossal  fortune  in  ten  years.  To  settle  his  children 
wealthily,  he  had  entertained  the  ingenious  idea  of 
investing  a  sum  of  three  hundred  thousand  francs 
for  life  in  his  wife's  name  and  his  own,  which  gave 
him  an  annual  income  of  thirty  thousand  francs. 
As  regards  his  capital,  he  had  divided  it  into  three 
dowries  of  four  hundred  thousand  francs  each  for 
his  children.  The  Cocon  d'Or,  the  dowry  of  his 
eldest  daugher,  was  accepted  for  this  sum  by  Ca- 
musot.  The  good  man,  almost  a  septuagenarian,  was 
able,  then,  to  spend,  and  did  spend  his  thirty  thou- 
sand francs  a  year,  without  infringing  on  the  in- 
terests of  his  children,  all  very  advantageously 
settled,  and  whose  testimonies  of  affection  were  not 
then  stained  by  any  thought  of  cupidity.  Uncle 
Cardot  dwelt  at  Belleville  in  one  of  the  finest  houses 
situated  above  La  Courtille.  He  occupied  there,  on 
a  second  floor,  that  commanded  a  full  view  of  the 

(167) 


1 68  A  START  IN   LIFE 

valley  of  the  Seine,  a  suite  of  rooms  for  a  thousand 
francs,  with  a  southern  exposure,  and  with  the  ex- 
clusive enjoyment  of  a  large  garden;  and  so  he  was 
scarcely  bothered  by  the  three  or  four  other  tenants 
lodged  in  that  vast  country  house.  Assured,  by  a 
long  lease,  of  ending  his  days  there,  he  lived  rather 
meanly,  served  by  his  old  cook  and  by  the  former 
chambermaid  to  the  late  Madame  Cardot,  who  ex- 
pected to  receive  each  some  six  hundred  francs  a 
year  after  his  death,  and  who,  consequently,  did 
not  steal  from  him.  These  two  women  took 
unheard-of  care  of  their  master  and  interested 
themselves  so  much  the  more  as  no  one  was  less 
fractious  and  less  finical  than  he.  The  rooms,  fur- 
nished by  the  late  Madame  Cardot,  remained  in 
the  same  condition  for  six  years  past,  the  old  man 
was  satisfied  with  them;  he  did  not  spend  alto- 
gether a  thousand  crowns  a  year,  for  he  dined  in 
Paris  five  times  a  week,  and  returned  every  even- 
ing at  midnight  in  a  hired  hack  belonging  to  an 
establishment  situated  at  the  Courtille  barrier. 
The  cook  had  scarcely  to  concern  herself  but  with 
breakfast.  The  good  man  breakfasted  at  eleven 
o'clock,  then  he  dressed,  perfumed  himself  and  went 
to  Paris.  Ordinarily  middle-class  folk  give  notice 
when  they  dine  in  town;  but  as  for  old  Cardot,  he 
gave  notice  when  he  dined  at  home.  This  little 
old  man,  fat,  fresh,  thickset  and  strong,  was,  as  the 
people  say,  always  as  neat  as  a  new  pin,  that  is, 
always  in  black  silk  stockings,  paduasoy  breeches, 
white   pique  waistcoat,   shining  linen,   blue-bottle 


A  START  IN   LIFE  1 69 

coat,  violet  silk  gloves,  gold  buckles  on  his  slippers 
and  breeches,  finally,  a  dust  of  powder  on  his  hair, 
a  small  tuft  of  which  was  fastened  with  a  black  rib- 
bon. His  countenance  was  remarkable  for  eye- 
brows as  bushy  as  shrubs  under  which  glanced  gray 
eyes,  and  for  a  square,  thick  and  long  nose  that 
gave  him  the  appearance  of  an  old  prebendary. 
This  physiognomy  kept  its  word.  Old  Cardot  be- 
longed, indeed,  to  that  race  of  wanton  Gerontes  that 
is  disappearing  day  by  day  and  that  supplied  the 
place  of  the  Turcarets  to  the  romances  and  comedies 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  Uncle  Cardot  said: 
Beautiful  lady!  He  brought  home  in  a  carriage  the 
women  that  were  without  escort;  he  put  himself  at 
their  disposal,  according  to  his  expression,  with 
chivalrous  airs.  Under  his  calm  mien,  under  his 
snow-white  brow,  he  concealed  an  old  age  con- 
cerned only  with  pleasures.  Among  men  he  boldly 
professed  Epicurism  and  indulged  in  off-color  jokes 
that  were  somewhat  strong.  He  had  not  found  it 
amiss  that  his  son-in-law  Camusot  paid  court  to  the 
charming  actress  Coral ie,  for  he  himself  was  secretly 
a  Mec^nas  to  Mademoiselle  Florentine,  first  dancer 
at  the  Gaite  theatre.  But  of  this  life  and  of  these 
opinions  there  was  nothing  apparent  in  him  or  in 
his  public  conduct.  Uncle  Cardot,  grave  and 
polite,  passed  for  being  almost  cold,  so  much  deco- 
rum did  he  assume,  and  a  devotee  would  have 
called  him  a  hypocrite.  This  worthy  gentleman 
particularly  hated  priests,  he  formed  a  part  of  that 
large  troop  of  simpletons  who  were  subscribers  to 


170  A  START  IN  LIFE 

the  Constitutionnel,  and  was  very  much  concerned 
with  the  refusals  of  burial.  He  adored  Voltaire, 
though  his  preferences  were  Piro,  Vade,  and  Colle. 
Naturally  he  admired  Beranger,  whom  he  ingeni- 
ously called  the  High  Priest  of  the  religion  of  Lisette. 
His  daughters,  Madame  Camusot  and  Madame 
Protez,  and  his  two  sons,  would,  according  to  a 
popular  expression,  have  sunk  into  the  earth  if  any- 
one had  explained  to  them  what  their  father  meant 
by  "singing  La  Mere  Godichon!"  This  wise  old 
man  had  not  spoken  of  his  life  income  to  his  chil- 
dren, who,  seeing  him  live  so  meanly,  all  believed 
that  he  had  deprived  himself  of  his  fortune  on  their 
account,  and  redoubled  their  care  and  tenderness. 
And  so,  occasionally,  he  said  to  his  son:  "Do  not 
lose  your  fortune,  for  I  have  none  to  leave  you." 
Camusot,  in  whom  he  found  much  of  his  own  char- 
acter and  whom  he  loved  well  enough  to  let  him 
know  of  his  shrewd  ways,  was  the  only  one  in  the 
secret  of  his  annuity  of  thirty  thousand  francs. 
Camusot  strongly  approved  of  the  good  man's  phil- 
osophy, who,  according  to  him,  after  having  pro- 
vided for  the  happiness  of  his  children  and  so  nobly 
performed  his  duties,  might  well  end  his  life  joy- 
ously. 

"Do  you  see,  my  friend,"  the  former  head  of  the 
Cocon  d'Or  said  to  him,  "I  could  get  married  again, 
could  1  not?  A  young  wife  would  have  given  me 
children — Yes,  I  should  have  had  some,  I  was  at  the 
age  when  one  still  has  them — Well,  Florentine  does 
not  cost  me  so  much  as  a  wife,  she  does  not  tire  me, 


A  START   IN   LIFE  I7I 

she  will  give  me  no  children,  and  will  never  eat  up 
your  fortune." 

Camusot  declared  that  old  Cardot  had  the  most 
exquisite  appreciation  of  family  life;  he  regarded 
him  as  an  accomplished  father-in-law. 

"He  knows  how,"  said  he,  "to  conciliate  the  in- 
terests of  his  children  with  the  pleasures  that  it  is 
quite  natural  to  enjoy  in  old  age,  after  having  ex- 
perienced all  the  bustle  of  trade." 

Neither  the  Cardots,  the  Camusots,  nor  the  Pro- 
tezes  suspected  the  manner  in  which  their  old  aunt, 
Madame  Clapart  lived.  The  family  relations  were 
confined  to  the  sending  of  notes  of  information  in 
case  of  death  or  marriage  and  cards  on  New  Year's 
day.  The  proud  Madame  Clapart  allowed  her  feel- 
ings to  yield  only  to  the  interest  of  her  Oscar,  and 
to  her  friendship  for  Moreau,  the  only  person  who 
had  remained  faithful  to  her  in  misfortune.  She 
had  not  tired  old  Cardot  by  her  presence  nor  by  her 
importunities;  but  she  had  attached  herself  to  him 
as  to  a  hope,  she  went  to  see  him  once  every  three 
months,  she  spoke  to  him  of  Oscar  Husson,  the 
nephew  of  the  late  respected  Madame  Cardot,  and 
brought  her  son  to  him  three  times  during  vacations. 
On  each  visit  the  good  man  had  made  Oscar  dine 
at  the  Cadran  Bleu,  had  taken  him  in  the  evening 
to  the  Gaite,  and  had  brought  him  back  to  the  Rue 
de  la  Cerisaie.  Once,  after  having  furnished  him 
with  an  entire  new  outfit,  he  had  given  him  the  sil- 
ver drinking-cup  and  covers  required  by  the  college 
rules.     Oscar's  mother  tried  to  prove  to  the  good 


172  A  START   IN   LIFE 

man  that  he  was  beloved  by  his  nephew,  she  always 
spoke  to  him  of  that  drinking-cup,  of  those  covers 
and  of  tliat  charming  suit  of  which  nothing  now 
remained  but  the  waistcoat.  But  these  little  hints 
hurt  Oscar  more  than  they  served  him  with  an  old 
fox  as  sly  as  was  Uncle  Cardot.  Old  Cardot  had 
never  been  much  in  love  with  his  deceased  wife,  a 
large  woman,  dry  and  ruddy;  he  knew,  moreover, 
the  circumstances  of  the  late  Husson's  marriage 
with  Oscar's  mother;  and,  without  disesteeming 
her  in  the  least,  he  was  not  unaware  that  Oscar 
was  posthumous;  thus  to  him  his  poor  nephew 
seemed  a  perfect  stranger  to  the  Cardots,  By  not 
foreseeing  misfortune,  Oscar's  mother  had  not 
remedied  these  defects  of  attachment  between  Oscar 
and  his  uncle,  by  inspiring  the  merchant  with 
friendship  for  his  nephew  from  an  early  age.  Like 
all  women  who  concentrate  themselves  in  the  feel- 
ing of  maternity,  Madame  Clapart  hardly  put  her- 
self in  Uncle  Cardot's  place,  she  believed  he  ought  to 
take  the  keenest  possible  interest  in  so  sweet  a  child, 
who  bore,  in  fme,  the  late  Madame  Cardot's  name. 

"Sir,  it  is  your  nephew  Oscar's  mother,"  said  the 
chambermaid  to  Monsieur  Cardot  as  he  was  walk- 
ing in  his  garden  waiting  for  breakfast,  after  having 
been  shaved  and  powdered  by  his  hairdresser. 

"Good-day,"  pretty  lady,"  said  the  former  silk 
merchant  as  he  saluted  Madame  Clapart,  enveloped 
in  his  white  pique  dressing-gown.  "Well,  well! 
how  your  lively  little  fellow  grows,"  he  added,  as 
he  took  hold  of  one  of  Oscar's  ears. 


I 


A  START  IN  LIFE  I73 

"He  has  finished  his  classes,  and  he  has  regretted 
very  much  that  his  dear  uncle  was  not  present  at 
the  Henri  IV.  distribution  of  premiums,  for  he  was 
mentioned.  The  name  Husson,  which  he  will  bear 
worthily,  let  us  hope,  was  proclaimed — " 

"The  devil!  the  devil!"  remarked  the  little  old 
man,  stopping.  Madame  Clapart,  Oscar  and  he  were 
walking  on  a  terrace  in  front  of  the  orange,  myrtle 
and  pomegranate  trees.     "And  what  did  he  get?" 

"Fourth  honorable  mention  in  philosophy,"  the 
mother  gloriously  replied. 

"Oh!  the  chap  has  a  good  way  to  go  to  make  up 
for  lost  time,"  Uncle  Cardot  exclaimed,  "for  to 
finish  with  an  honorable  mention — thafs  no  great 
thing!     You  will  breakfast  with  me  ?"  he  continued. 

"We're  at  your  orders, "  Madame  Clapart  replied. 
"Ah!  my  good  Monsieur  Cardot,  what  satisfaction 
for  fathers  and  mothers  when  their  children  start 
well  in  life.  In  this  respect,  as  in  all  others,  for- 
sooth," she  said  continuing,  "you  are  one  of  the 
happiest  fathers  that  I  know — Under  your  honorable 
son-in-law  and  your  amiable  daughter  the  Cocon 
d'Or  has  remained  the  chief  establishment  in  Paris. 
There  is  your  eldest  son  for  ten  years  past  at  the 
head  of  the  finest  notary's  office  in  the  capital  and 
married  rich.  Your  youngest  has  just  become  a 
partner  in  the  richest  of  drug  houses.  In  fine,  you 
have  charming  granddaughters.  You  see  yourself 
the  head  of  four  great  families — Leave  us,  Oscar; 
go  and  look  at  the  garden,  but  don't  touch  the 
flowers." 


174  A   START  IN   LIFE 

"But  he  is  eighteen!"  said  Uncle  Cardot,  smil- 
ing at  that  recommendation  which  belittled  Oscar. 

"Alas!  yes,  my  good  Monsieur  Cardot,  and  after 
having  been  able  to  bring  him  so  far,  neither  hump- 
backed nor  bandy-legged,  sound  in  mind  and  body, 
after  having  sacrificed  everything  to  give  him  an 
education,  it  would  be  very  hard  not  to  see  him  on 
the  road  to  fortune." 

"But  that  Monsieur  Moreau,  through  whom  you 
got  his  half-scholarship  in  the  College  Henri  IV., 
will  start  him  on  a  safe  road,"  said  Uncle  Cardot, 
with  hypocrisy  concealed  under  a  good-natured 
mien, 

"Monsieur  Moreau  may  die,"  she  said,  "and, 
moreover,  he  has  quarreled  without  any  possible 
chance  of  reconciliation  with  the  Comte  de  Serizy, 
his  master." 

"The  devil!  the  devil! — Listen,  madame,  I  see 
you  coming — " 

"No,  sir,"  said  Oscar's  mother,  straightway  in- 
terrupting the  old  man,  who  out  of  respect  for  a 
pretty  lady  restrained  the  feeling  of  spleen  that  one 
experiences  on  being  interrupted.  "Alas!  you  know 
nothing  of  the  anguish  of  a  mother  who,  for  seven 
years,  has  been  forced  to  take  for  her  son  a  sum  of 
six  hundred  francs  a  year  out  of  her  husband's 
eighteen  hundred  francs  salary — Yes,  sir,  that  is 
our  entire  fortune.  So,  what  can  I  do  for  my 
Oscar?  Monsieur  Clapart  so  hates  this  poor  boy 
that  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  keep  him  at  home. 
A  poor  woman,  alone  in  the  world,  must  she  not  in 


A  START  IN   LIFE  I75 

such   circumstances    come    and    consult    the   only 
relative  that  her  son  has  under  heaven !" 

You  were  right,"  goodman  Cardot  replied.  "You 
had  never  told  me  anything  of  all  that — " 

"Ah!  sir,"  proudly  continued  Madame  Clapart, 
"you  are  the  last  to  whom  1  would  confide  the  ex- 
tent of  my  poverty.  It  is  all  my  fault,  I  took  a 
husband  whose  incapacity  exceeds  all  belief.  Oh! 
1  am  very  unfortunate — " 

"Listen,  madame,"  the  little  old  man  continued 
gravely,  "do  not  weep.  To  see  a  pretty  lady  weep 
gives  me  a  frightful  pain — After  all,  your  son's 
name  is  Husson,  and,  if  my  dear  departed  were 
alive,  she  would  do  something  for  the  name  of  her 
father  and  her  brother — " 

"She  loved  her  brother  very  much,"  Oscar's 
mother  exclaimed. 

"But  my  entire  fortune  has  been  given  to  my 
children,  who  no  longer  have  anything  to  expect  of 
me,"  said  the  old  man,  continuing:  "I  have  divided 
among  them  the  two  millions  that  I  had,  for  I 
wanted  to  see  them  happy  and  with  all  their  for- 
tune during  my  lifetime.  I  have  kept  to  myself 
only  an  annual  income  for  life,  and,  at  my  age, 
one  sticks  to  his  habits — Do  you  know  on  what 
road  we  should  start  that  chap?"  he  said  as  he 
called  Oscar  back  and  took  him  by  the  arm.  "Make 
him  study  law,  I  will  pay  the  fees  and  the  thesis 
expenses.  Put  him  in  a  proctor's  office,  where  he 
will  learn  pettifogging;  if  he  gets  along  well,  if  he 
distinguishes  himself,    if  he  likes  the  profession, 


176  A  START  IN  LIFE 

and  I  am  still  alive,  each  of  my  children  will  loan 
him  the  quarter  part  of  the  price  to  purchase  a  prac- 
tice in  due  course;  as  for  me,  I  will  become  his 
security.  You  have  accordingly,  from  now  until 
then,  only  to  feed  and  clothe  him;  he  will  have  to 
go  on  short  rations,  but  he  will  learn  life.  Well, 
well!  as  for  me,  I  set  out  from  Lyons  with  two 
double  louis  that  were  given  to  me  by  my  grand- 
mother, I  came  on  foot  to  Paris,  and  see  me  now. 
Fasting  aids  health.  Young  man,  discretion,  probity, 
work,  and  one  gets  there!  One  derives  much  pleas- 
ure from  making  his  fortune;  and,  as  long  as  one 
has  teeth,  one  eats  at  his  fancy  in  his  old  age,  sing- 
ing, like  me,  from  time  to  time,  La  Mere  Godichon! 
Remember  my  words:  probity,  work  and  discre- 
tion." 

"Do  you  hear,  Oscar  ?"  said  the  mother.  "Your 
uncle  sums  up  in  three  words  all  that  I  have  been 
telling  you,  and  you  ought  to  engrave  the  last  one 
in  your  memory  in  letters  of  fire — " 

"Oh!  it  is  there,"  Oscar  replied. 

"Well,  then,  thank  your  uncle;  do  you  not  hear 
that  he  takes  charge  of  your  future  ?  You  may  be- 
come a  Paris  attorney." 

"He  does  not  know  the  grandeur  of  his  destiny," 
the  little  old  man  replied  on  seeing  Oscar's  stupid 
mien,  "he  is  leaving  college.  Listen,  I  am  not  a 
babbler,"  the  uncle  continued.  "Remember  that, 
at  your  age,  probity  becomes  an  established  fact 
only  by  knowing  how  to  resist  temptations,  and,  in 
a   large  city  like  Paris,  they  are  to  be  found  at 


A  START  IN  LIFE  I77 

every  step.  Continue  to  live  with  your  mother,  in 
a  mansard;  go  direct  to  your  school;  thence  return 
to  your  office,  keep  digging  at  your  work  evening 
and  morning,  study  at  home;  become  a  second 
clerk  at  twenty-two,  at  twenty-four  a  first;  be 
learned,  and  your  game  is  bagged.  Well,  if  that 
life  displeases  you,  you  might  enter  the  office  of 
my  son  the  notary,  and  become  his  successor — Thus, 
work,  patience,  discretion,  probity,  there  are  your 
landmarks." 

"And  God  grant  that  you  live  thirty  years  more, 
so  as  to  see  your  fifth  son  realizing  all  that  we  ex- 
pect of  him!"  Madame  Clapart  exclaimed  as  she 
took  hold  of  Uncle  Cardot's  hand  and  pressed  it 
with  an  emotion  worthy  of  her  youth. 

"Let  us  go  to  breakfast,"  the  good  little  old  man 
replied  as  he  led  Oscar  by  one  ear. 

During  breakfast  Uncle  Cardot  watched  his 
nephew  without  seeming  to  do  so,  and  remarked  that 
he  knew  nothing  of  life. 

"Send  him  to  me  from  time  to  time,"  he  said  to 
Madame  Clapart  as  he  dismissed  her  and  pointed  to 
Oscar,  "I  will  shape  him  for  you." 

This  visit  calmed  the  sorrows  of  the  poor  woman, 
who  had  not  hoped  for  such  brilliant  success.  Dur- 
ing a  fortnight  she  went  out  to  walk  with  Oscar, 
watched  over  him  almost  tyrannically,  and  thus 
reached  the  end  of  the  month  of  October.  One 
morning  Oscar  saw  the  dreaded  manager  coming, 
who  took  by  surprise  the  poor  household  of  the  Rue 
de  la  Cerisaie  at  breakfast,  which  consisted  of  a 
12 


178  A  START  IN  LIFE 

herring  salad  and  lettuce,  with  a  cup  of  milk  for 
dessert. 

"We  have  settled  in  Paris,  and  we  do  not  live  in 
it  as  at  Presles, "  said  Moreau,  who  thus  wanted  to 
announce  to  Madame  Clapart  the  change  brought 
into  their  relations  through  Oscar's  fault;  "but  1 
will  be  there  very  little.  I  have  formed  a  partner- 
ship with  old  Leger  and  old  Margueron  of  Beaumont. 
We  are  real  estate  brokers,  and  we  have  begun  by 
buying  the  Persan  estate.  I  am  the  head  of  this 
company,  which  has  a  capital  of  a  million,  for  I 
borrowed  on  my  property.  When  I  find  a  matter  of 
business,  old  Leger  and  I  examine  it,  my  partners 
have  a  fourth  each,  I  have  half  of  the  profits,  for  I 
go  to  all  the  trouble;  and  so  I  will  be  always  on 
the  road.  My  wife  lives  in  Paris,  in  the  Faubourg 
du  Roule,  quite  modestly.  When  we  shall  have 
realized  on  some  transactions,  and  we  will  risk  no 
more  than  the  profits,  if  we  are  satisfied  with 
Oscar,  perhaps  we  will  employ  him." 

"Come,  my  friend,  the  catastrophe  due  to  my 
unfortunate  boy's  levity  will  no  doubt  be  the  source 
of  a  brilliant  fortune  to  you;  for,  in  truth,  you 
were  burying  your  resources  and  your  energy 
at  Presles — " 

Then  Madame  Clapart  told  of  her  visit  to  Uncle 
Cardot  so  as  to  show  Moreau  that  she  and  her  son 
might  no  longer  be  a  burden  to  him. 

"He  is  right,  is  that  good  old  man,"  replied  the 
ex-manager,  "Oscar  must  be  kept  in  that  path 
with  an  iron  hand,  and  he  will  certainly  be  a  notary 


A  START  IN   LIFE  179 

or  an  attorney.  But  let  him  not  deviate  from  the 
path  marked  out.  Ah!  I  can  help  you.  A  real 
estate  dealer's  practice  is  important,  and  I  have 
been  told  of  an  attorney  who  has  just  purchased  an 
empty  title,  that  is,  an  office  without  clients.  He 
is  a  young  man  as  hard  as  a  bar  of  iron,  eager  for 
work,  a  horse  of  ferocious  activity;  his  name  is 
Desroches;  I  am  going  to  offer  him  all  my  business 
on  condition  that  he  will  break  in  Oscar;  1  will 
propose  to  him  to  take  him  at  his  house  for  a  con- 
sideration of  nine  hundred  francs,  I  will  give  three 
hundred,  and  thus  your  son  will  cost  you  only  six 
hundred  francs,  and  1  am  indeed  going  to  recommend 
him  to  the  prior.  If  the  boy  wants  to  become  a 
man,  it  will  be  under  this  rod;  for  he  will  leave 
there  a  notary,  a  barrister,  or  an  attorney." 

"Come,  Oscar,  thank  this  good  Monsieur  Moreau, 
then,  you  are  there  as  if  for  good!  All  young  men 
who  do  stupid  things  have  not  the  good  luck  to  meet 
friends  who  still  interest  themselves  in  them  after 
having  been  afflicted  through  them — " 

"The  best  way  of  making  your  peace  with  me," 
said  Moreau  as  he  shook  Oscar's  hand,  "is  to  work 
with  constant  application  and  to  conduct  yourself 
properly." 

Ten  days  later,  Oscar  was  presented  by  the  ex- 
manager  to  Master  Desroches,  attorney,  who  had 
recently  opened  an  office  in  the  Rue  de  Bethisy,  in 
spacious  apartments  at  the  end  of  a  narrow  court, 
and  at  a  relatively  moderate  figure.  Desroches,  a 
young  man  of  twenty-six,  brought  up  strictly  by  a 


I80  A  START  IN   LIFE 

father  of  extreme  severity,  born  of  poor  parents,  had 
seen  himself  in  the  conditions  in  which  Oscar  was 
placed;  he  interested  himself  in  him  accordingly, 
but  as  he  might  interest  himself  in  anyone,  with 
the  appearances  of  severity  that  characterized  him. 
The  sight  of  this  dry  and  spare  young  man,  of 
muddy  complexion,  with  cropped  hair,  brusque  of 
speech,  with  penetrating  eye  and  sombre  vivacity, 
terrified  poor  Oscar. 

"Here  one  works  day  and  night, "  said  the  attorney 
from  the  depths  of  his  armchair  and  from  behind  a 
long  table  on  which  papers  were  piled  up  like  the 
Alps.  ''Monsieur  Moreau,  we  will  not  kill  him  for 
you,  but  he  must  keep  up  with  our  pace — Monsieur 
Godeschal !"  he  called. 

Though  it  was  a  Sunday,  the  chief  clerk  ap- 
peared, pen  in  hand. 

"Monsieur  Godeschal,  this  is  the  parliamentary 
lawyer's  apprentice  of  whom  I  have  spoken  to  you, 
and  in  whom  Monsieur  Moreau  takes  the  keenest 
interest;  he  will  dine  with  us  and  will  take  the 
small  mansard  alongside  your  room;  you  will 
measure  for  him  the  time  necessary  to  go  from  here 
to  the  Law  School  and  return,  so  that  he  will  not 
have  five  minutes  to  lose ;  you  will  see  that  he  learns 
the  Code  and  becomes  strong  in  his  courses,  that  is, 
that  when  he  will  have  finished  his  study  work  you 
will  give  him  authors  to  read;  in  fine,  he  is  to  be 
under  your  immediate  direction,  and  I  will  have  an 
eye  over  him.  They  want  to  make  of  him  what 
you  have  made  of  yourself,  a  competent  first  clerk. 


A  START  IN   LIFE  l8l 

for  the  day  when  he  will  take  his  oath  as  a  barris- 
ter. Go  with  Godeschal,  my  little  friend,  he  will 
show  you  your  bunk  and  you  will  make  yourself  at 
home  in  it. — You  see  Godeschal.? — "  Desroches 
continued,  addressing  Moreau.  "He  is  a  fellow 
who,  like  me,  has  nothing;  he  is  the  brother  of 
Mariette,  the  famous  dancer,  who  is  saving  up  for 
him  enough  to  get  an  office  of  his  own  in  ten  years. 
All  my  clerks  are  jolly  fellows  who  must  count  only 
on  their  ten  fmgers  to  win  their  fortune.  And  so 
my  five  clerks  and  1  do  as  much  work  as  twelve 
others!  In  ten  years  I  will  have  the  finest  practice 
in  Paris.  Here  one  is  most  eager  for  business  and 
clients,  and  that  is  beginning  to  show.  I  have 
taken  Godeschal  from  my  brother  lawyer  Derville, 
he  was  only  second  clerk  until  a  fortnight  ago; 
but  we  have  come  to  know  each  other  in  this  great 
office.  With  me  Godeschal  has  a  thousand  francs, 
board  and  lodging.  He  is  a  young  man  who  is 
worthy  of  me,  he  is  indefatigable!  I  love  him,  I  do, 
that  youth !  He  has  known  how  to  live  on  six  hun- 
dred francs,  like  me  when  I  was  a  clerk.  What  I  want 
especially  is  untarnished  probity;  and  when  one 
practises  it  thus  in  indigence,  one  is  a  man.  On 
the  slightest  transgression  in  that  direction,  a  clerk 
leaves  my  office." 

"1  see  the  boy  is  at  a  good  school,"  said  Moreau. 

For  two  whole  years  Oscar  lived  in  the  Rue  de 
Bethisy,  in  the  cave  of  pettifogging;  for  if  ever  this 
superannuated  expression  could  be  applied  to  an 
office,   it  was   to  that   of   Desroches.     Under   this 


1 82  A  START  IN  LIFE 

surveillance,  at  the  same  time  fastidious  and  adroit, 
he  was  kept  to  his  hours  and  his  work  so  strictly 
that  his  life  in  the  heart  of  Paris  resembled  that 
of  a  monk. 

At  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  in  all  seasons, 
Godeschal  awoke.  He  went  down  with  Oscar  to 
the  office  so  as  to  save  fire  in  winter,  and  they 
always  found  the  master  up  and  at  work.  Oscar 
attended  to  the  office  messages  and  prepared  his 
lessons  for  the  School ;  but  he  prepared  them  on 
enormous  proportions.  Godeschal,  and  often  the 
master,  indicated  to  their  pupil  the  authors  to 
be  mastered  and  the  difficulties  to  be  overcome. 
Oscar  abandoned  a  title  of  the  Code  only  after  hav- 
ing fathomed  it  and  having  in  turn  satisfied  his 
master  and  Godeschal,  who  subjected  him  to  pre- 
paratory examinations  more  serious  and  longer  than 
those  of  the  Law  School.  On  returning  from  the 
course,  where  he  remained  but  a  little  while,  he 
took  his  place  again  in  the  office,  he  resumed  work 
there,  he  went  sometimes  to  the  Palais,  he  was  at 
last  under  the  devotedness  of  the  terrible  Godeschal 
until  dinner.  The  dinner,  that  of  the  master  too, 
consisted  of  a  big  dish  of  meat,  a  dish  of  vege- 
tables and  a  salad.  The  dessert  was  made  up  of  a 
piece  of  Gruyere  cheese.  After  dinner  Godeschal 
and  Oscar  returned  to  the  office  and  worked  there 
until  evening.  Once  a  month  Oscar  went  to  break- 
fast at  his  Uncle  Cardot's,  and  he  spent  the  Sundays 
with  his  mother.  From  time  to  time  Moreau,  when 
he  came  to  the  office  about  his  business,  took  Oscar 


A  START  IN   LIFE  183 

to  dine  at  the  Palais-Royal  and  regaled  him  by  tak- 
ing him  to  see  some  performance.  Oscar  had  been 
so  brow-beaten  by  Godeschal  and  Desroches  about 
his  fancies  for  elegance  that  he  no  longer  thought  of 

toilet. 

"A  good  clerk,"  Godeschal  said  to  him,  "ought 
to  have  two  black  coats — a  new  one  and  an  old  one, 
— black  trousers,  black  stockings  and  shoes.  Boots 
cost  too  much.  One  has  boots  when  one  is  an 
attorney.  A  clerk  ought  not  to  spend  altogether  over 
seven  hundred  francs.  One  wears  good  coarse 
shirts  of  strong  linen.  Ah!  when  one  starts  from 
zero  to  make  a  fortune,  one  must  know  how  to 
reduce  one's  self  to  what  is  necessary.  See  Mon- 
sieur Desroches !  He  has  done  what  we  are  doing, 
and  see  how  he  has  got  there." 

Godeschal  preached  by  example.  If  he  professed 
the  strictest  principles  of  honor,  discretion,  probity, 
he  unostentatiously  practised  them,  as  he  breathed, 
as  he  walked.  It  was  the  natural  play  of  his  soul, 
as  walking  and  breathing  are  the  play  of  the  organs. 
Eighteen  months  after  Oscar's  installation,  the 
second  clerk  had  for  the  second  time  a  slight  error 
in  the  account  of  his  petty  cash.  Godeschal  said  to 
him  in  the  hearing  of  the  whole  office: 

"My  dear  Gaudet,  getaway  from  here  of  your 
own  accord  so  that  no  one  can  say  the  master  dis- 
missed you.  You  are  either  distracted  or  inaccurate 
and  the  slightest  of  these  mistakes  is  worth  nothing 
here.  The  master  will  know  nothing  of  it  and 
that's  all  1  can  do  for  a  comrade." 


1 84  A  START   IN   LIFE 

At  twenty  Oscar  saw  himself  third  clerk  in  Mas- 
ter Desroches'  office.  If  he  had  earned  nothing  as 
yet,  he  was  fed  and  lodged,  for  he  did  the  work  of  a 
second  clerk.  Desroches  employed  two  master 
clerks,  and  the  second  clerk  gave  way  under  his 
heavy  labors.  On  reaching  the  end  of  his  second 
year  at  law,  Oscar,  already  better  equipped  than 
many  graduates,  attended  to  the  Palais  affairs  intelli- 
gently and  pleaded  some  referred  cases.  In  fine, 
Godeschal  and  Desroches  were  satisfied  with  him. 
Only,  though  he  had  become  almost  reasonable,  he 
showed  a  propensity  to  pleasure  and  a  desire  to 
shine  that  was  kept  in  restraint  by  the  severe  dis- 
cipline and  the  unceasing  work  of  that  life.  The 
real  estate  broker,  satisfied  with  the  clerk's  progress, 
relaxed  his  severity.  When,  in  July,  1825,  Oscar 
passed  his  final  examination  with  white  balls, 
Moreau  gave  him  the  wherewith  to  clothe  himself 
elegantly.  Madame  Clapart,  happy  and  proud  of 
her  son,  prepared  a  superb  outfit  for  the  future 
graduate,  for  the  future  second  clerk.  In  poor 
families,  presents  always  have  the  opportuneness  of 
a  something  useful.  On  returning,  in  November, 
Oscar  Husson  had  the  room  of  the  second  clerk, 
whom  he  at  last  replaced,  he  had  eight  hundred 
francs  salary,  board  and  lodging.  And  so  Uncle 
Cardot,  who  came  secretly  to  seek  information 
about  this  nephew  of  Monsieur  Desroches,  promised 
Madame  Clapart  to  put  Oscar  in  a  condition  to 
negotiate  about  an  office,  if  he  continued  thus. 

In  spite  of  such  appearances   of  wisdom,  Oscar 


A  START  IN   LIFE  1 85 

Husson  had  some  stiff  fights  within  himself.  He 
wanted,  at  certain  moments,  to  give  up  a  life  so 
directly  contrary  to  his  tastes  and  to  his  character. 
He  thought  convicts  must  be  happier  than  he.  As 
the  collar  of  this  iron  rule  was  killing  him,  the  desire 
seized  him  to  fly  as  he  compared  himself  in  the 
streets  to  some  well-dressed  young  men.  Fre- 
quently carried  by  impulses  of  folly  towards  women, 
he  was  resigned,  but  only  by  falling  into  a  profound 
disgust  for  life.  Supported  by  Godeschal's  exam- 
ple, he  was  rather  dragged  than  moved  voluntarily  to 
remain  in  so  rough  a  path.  Godeschal,  who  was 
watching  Oscar,  regarded  it  as  a  principle  not  to 
expose  his  pupil  to  temptations.  Most  frequently 
the  clerk  was  penniless,  or  had  so  little  money  that 
he  could  not  give  himself  up  to  any  excess.  In  this 
last  year  the  good  Godeschal  had  joined  five  or  six 
pleasure  parties  with  Oscar  and  paid  his  way,  for 
he  felt  that  it  was  necessary  to  slacken  the  cord  by 
which  this  tethered  young  buck  was  bound.  These 
breaks,  as  the  strait-laced  chief  clerk  called  them, 
helped  Oscar  to  bear  with  life;  for  he  had  little 
amusement  at  his  uncle  Cardot's,  and  still  less  at  his 
mother's,  who  lived  even  more  parsimoniously  than 
Desroches.  Moreau  could  not,  like  Godeschal,  be- 
come familiar  with  Oscar,  and  perhaps  this  severe 
protector  of  young  Husson  made  use  of  Godeschal 
to  initiate  the  poor  youth  into  the  mysteries  of  life. 
Oscar,  having  become  discreet,  had  at  last  come  to 
understand,  by  contact  with  business,  the  extent  of 
the    blunder   he   had   committed   during   his   fatal 


1 86  A  START  IN  LIFE 

journey  in  the  cuckoo;  but,  though  his  fancies 
were  for  the  most  part  repressed,  the  folly  of  youth 
might  still  draw  him  on.  Nevertheless,  in  propor- 
tion as  he  came  to  know  the  world  and  its  laws,  his 
reason  was  formed,  and,  provided  that  Godeschal 
did  not  lose  sight  of  him,  Moreau  flattered  himself 
that  he  would  bring  Madame  Clapart's  son  to  some- 
thing good. 

"How  is  he  getting  along.?"  the  real  estate 
broker  asked  on  returning  from  a  journey  that  had 
kept  him  away  from  Paris  for  several  months. 

"Always  too  much  vanity,"  Godeschal  replied. 
"You  give  him  fine  clothes  and  fine  linen,  he  puts 
on  the  airs  of  an  exchange  broker,  and  my  dandy 
goes  on  Sundays  to  the  Tuileries  to  look  for  adven- 
tures. What  do  you  want!  he  is  young.  He 
bothers  me  to  introduce  him  to  my  sister,  at  whose 
house  he  would  see  famous  company:  actresses, 
dancing  girls,  fops,  people  who  dissipate  their 
means. — He  has  not  the  turn  of  mind  to  make  an 
attorney,  I  am  afraid.  He  talks  rather  well,  how- 
ever, he  might  be  a  barrister,  he  would  plead  cases 
well  prepared." 

In  November,  1825,  just  when  Oscar  took  posses- 
sion of  his  post  and  when  he  was  preparing  to 
maintain  his  thesis  for  admission,  there  came  to 
Desroches'  a  new  fourth  clerk  to  fill  the  vacancy 
caused  by  Oscar's  promotion. 

This  fourth  clerk,  whose  name  was  Frederic 
Marest,  was  intended  for  the  magistracy,  and  was 
finishing  his  third  year  in  law.     He  was,  according 


I 


A  START   IN   LIFE  1 87 

to  the  information  obtained  by  the  office  police,  a 
handsome  youth  of  twenty-three,  worth  an  income 
of  twelve  thousand  francs  by  the  death  of  a  bachelor 
uncle,  and  the  son  of  a  Madame  Marest,  the  widow 
of  a  rich  lumber  dealer.  The  future  substitute,  an- 
imated by  the  laudable  desire  of  knowing  his  call- 
ing in  its  most  minute  details,  entered  Desroches' 
with  the  intention  of  studying  procedure  and  being 
capable  of  filling  the  place  of  chief  clerk  in  two 
years.  He  counted  on  practising  as  a  barrister  at 
Paris,  so  as  to  be  fit  to  exercise  the  duties  of  the 
office  that  would  not  be  refused  to  a  rich  young 
man.  To  see  himself  at  thirty  a  king's  proctor  in 
some  tribunal  or  other  was  his  whole  ambition. 
Though  this  Frederic  was  the  cousin-german  of 
Georges  Marest,  as  the  mystifier  of  the  journey  to 
Presies  had  told  his  name  only  to  Moreau,  young 
Husson  knew  him  only  by  the  Christian  name 
Georges,  and  this  name  of  Frederic  Marest  could 
recall  nothing  to  him. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Godeschal  at  breakfast,  ad- 
dressing all  the  clerks,  "I  announce  to  you  the 
arrival  of  a  new  pupil;  and,  as  he  is  very  rich,  we 
shall  accord  him,  I  hope,  a  famous  welcome — " 

"Bring  out  the  book !"  said  Oscar  as  he  looked  at 
the  little  clerk,  "and  let  us  be  serious." 

The  junior  clerk  clambered  like  a  squirrel  along 
the  pigeon-holes  to  get  a  register  placed  on  the  last 
shelf  only  to  receive  layers  of  dust 

"It  is  getting  black,"  said  the  junior  clerk,  as  he 
pointed  to  a  book. 


1 88  A  START  IN  LIFE 

Let  us  explain  the  everlasting  pleasantry  caused 
by  that  book  then  in  use  in  most  offices.     Break- 
fasts for  clerks,  dinners  for  revenue  collectors  and  sup- 
pers for  lords — that  old  dictum  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury is  still  true,  so  far  as  regards  the  limb  of  the 
law  or  anyone  who  has  spent  two  or  three  years  of 
his  life  at  the  study  of  procedure  in  an  attorney's 
office,  or  of  notaryship  with  any  master  whomso- 
ever.    In  the  life  of  clerks,   where   one  works  so 
much,  one  likes  pleasure  with  so  much  the  more 
ardor  as  it  is  rare;  but  especially  does  one  enjoy  a 
mystification  with  delight.     This  is  what,  up  to  a 
certain  point,  explains  Georges  Marest's  conduct  in 
the  Pierrotin  coach.     The  most  sombre  clerk  is  al- 
ways tempted  with  an  inclination  to  farce  and  jest. 
The  instinct  with  which   one  takes   hold   of   and 
develops  a  mystification  and  a  pleasantry,  among 
clerks,   is   marvelous  to  see,  and   has  its  analogy 
only  among  painters.     The  workshop  and  the  office 
are,  in  this  line,  superior  to  comedians.     By  buying 
an  empty  title,  Desroches  to  a  certain  extent  began 
a  new  dynasty.     This  foundation  interrupted  the 
sequence  of  the  usages  relative  to  welcome.    And  so, 
having  come  into  chambers  where  stamped  papers 
had  never  been  signed,  Desroches  had  put  new  tables 
there,  entirely  new  white  and  blue  bordered  car- 
tons.    His  office  was  filled  with  clerks  taken  from 
different  offices,  having  no   bonds  between   them, 
and,  so  to  say,  astonished  at  their  coming  together. 
Godeschal,  who  had  given  his  first  service  at  Mas- 
ter Derville's,  was  not  a  clerk  to  let  himself  lose 


A   START   IN   LIFE  1 89 

the  valuable  tradition  of  welcome.  Welcome  is  a 
breakfast  that  every  neophyte  owes  to  the  elders  of 
the  office  that  he  enters.  Now,  just  when  young 
Oscar  came  to  the  office,  within  six  months  after 
Desroches'  installation,  on  a  winter  afternoon  when 
business  was  despatched  early,  at  the  moment  when 
the  clerks  were  warming  themselves  before  leaving, 
it  occurred  to  Godeschal  to  get  up  a  so-called  archi- 
triclino-basochian  register,  of  the  remotest  antiquity, 
saved  from  the  storms  of  the  Revolution,  that  had 
come  down  from  Bordin,  procureiir  at  the  Ch^telet 
who  was  the  intermediate  predecessor  of  Sauvag- 
nest,  the  attorney  from  whom  Desroches  derived  his 
practice.  They  began  by  searching  in  the  shop  of  a 
dealer  in  old  paper  for  some  paper  register  bearing 
the  marks  of  the  eighteenth  century,  well  and  duly 
bound  in  parchment,  in  which  a  decree  of  the  grand 
council  might  be  read.  After  having  found  this  book, 
they  dragged  it  in  the  dust,  in  the  frying-pan,  in  the 
fire-place,  in  the  kitchen;  they  left  it  even  in  what 
the  clerks  call  the  chamber  of  consultation,  and  they  ob- 
tained a  mouldiness  that  would  delight  antiquaries, 
cracks  betokening  a  barbarous  antiquity,  corners  so 
worn  as  to  suggest  that  rats  had  regaled  themselves 
on  it.  The  edges  were  reddened  with  astonishing 
perfection.  Once  the  book  was  put  in  this  state,  it 
contained  citations  such  as  these,  that  will  tell  the 
most  obtuse  of  the  usage  to  which  Desroches'  office 
put  this  collection,  the  first  sixty  pages  of  which 
were  filled  with  spurious  reports.  On  the  first  leaf 
one  read : 


190  A  START  IN   LIFE 

"In  the  name  of  the  Father  and  of  the  Son  and  of  the 
Holy  Ghost.  Amen.  On  this  day,  the  feast  of  our  Ladye 
Sainte-Geneviesve,  patroness  of  Paris,  under  whose  invoca- 
tion are  placed,  since  the  year  1525,  the  clerks  of  this  Office, 
we,  the  undersigned,  clerks  and  junior  clerks  in  the  Office  of 
Master  Jerosme-Sebastien  Bordin,  successor  to  the  late  Guer- 
bet,  in  his  time  proctor  at  Le  Chastelet,  have  recognized  the 
necessity  incumbent  on  us  of  replacing  the  register  and  the 
archives  of  installations  of  the  clerks  of  this  glorious  Office, 
distinguished  member  of  the  kingdom  of  Basoche,  the  which 
register  was  seen  to  be  full  in  consequence  of  the  acts  of  our 
dear  and  well-beloved  predecessors,  and  have  requested  the 
Keeper  of  the  Archives  of  the  Palays  to  add  it  to  those  of  the 
other  Offices,  and  have  all  gone  to  mass  in  the  parish  church 
of  Saint-Severin,  to  solemnize  the  inauguration  of  our  new 
register. 

"  In  witness  whereof  we  have  attached  our  signatures : 
Malin,  chief  clerke  ;  Grevin,  second  clerke  ;  Athanase  Feret, 
clerke ;  Jacques  Huet,  clerke;  Regnauld  de  Saint-Jean- 
d'Angely,  clerke  ;  Bedeau,  junior  clerke,  puddle-jumper.  In 
the  year  of  our  Lord,  1787. 

"  After  having  heard  mass,  we  betook  ourselves  to  La 
Courtille,  and,  at  our  common  expense,  had  a  big  breakfast 
that  ended  only  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning." 

It  was  wonderfully  written.  An  expert  would 
have  sworn  that  this  writing  belonged  to  the  eight- 
eenth century.  Twenty-seven  reports  of  recep- 
tions followed,  and  the  last  referred  to  the  fatal 
year  1792.  After  a  gap  of  fourteen  years  the  regis- 
ter began  again,  in  1806,  with  the  appointment  of 
Bordin  as  attorney  to  the  committing  tribunal  of 
the  Seine.  And  here  is  the  rubric  that  marked  the 
restoration  of  the  kingdom  of  Basoche  and  other  in- 
cidents : 


A  START   IN   LIFE  IQI 

"God,  in  His  clemency,  has  deigned  tliat  in  spite  of  the 
frightful  storms  which  have  raged  over  the  land  of  France, 
that  has  become  a  great  empire,  the  precious  archives  of  the 
most  famous  office  of  Master  Bordin  have  been  preserved; 
and  we,  the  undersigned,  clerks  of  the  most-worthy,  most- 
virtuous  Master  Bordin,  do  not  hesitate  to  attribute  this 
unheard-of  preservation,  when  so  many  titles,  charters  and 
privileges  were  lost,  to  the  protection  of  Saint  Genevieve, 
patroness  of  this  office,  and  also  to  the  respect  that  the  last 
of  the  proctors  of  the  old  school  had  for  all  that  pertained  to 
the  ancient  usages  and  customs.  In  the  uncertainty  of 
determining  what  part  Saint  Genevieve  and  what  Master 
Bordin  had  in  this  miracle,  we  have  resolved  to  betake  our- 
selves to  Saint-^tienne-du-Mont,  there  to  hear  a  mass  that 
will  be  said  at  this  shepherd-saint's  altar,  who  sends  us  so 
many  sheep  to  shear,  and  to  invite  our  master  to  breakfast, 
hoping  that  he  will  foot  the  bill  for  it. 

"  Signed  by:  Oignard,  chief  clerk  ;  Poidevin,  second  clerk  ; 
Proust,  clerk  ;  Brignolet,  clerk ;  Derville,  clerk  ;  Augustin 
Coret,  junior  clerk. 

"The  Office,  November  lo,  1806." 

"  At  three  o'clock  p.  m.  next  day,  the  undersigned  clerks 
here  record  their  gratitude  to  their  excellent  master,  who 
regaled  them  at  the  house  of  the  Sieur  Holland,  restaurant 
keeper,  in  the  Rue  du  Hasard,  with  exquisite  wines  of  three 
districts,  Bordeaux,  Champagne  and  Burgundy,  with  dishes 
particularly  well  prepared,  from  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
until  half-past  seven.  There  were  coffee,  ices,  and  liqueurs  in 
abundance.  But  the  master's  presence  did  not  allow  of  the 
singing  of  lauds  in  clerical  songs.  No  clerk  exceeded  the 
bounds  of  amiable  gaiety,  for  the  worthy,  respectable  and 
generous  master  had  promised  to  bring  his  clerks  to  see 
Talma,  in  Britannicus,  at  the  Theatre  Francais.  Long  life  to 
Master  Bordin  !  May  God  shed  His  favors  on  our  venerable 
chief !  May  he  get  a  good  price  for  so  glorious  an  office ! 
May  the  rich  client  come  to  him  at  his  will !  May  his  expense 


192  A  START  IN  LIFE 

bills  be  paid  for  him  exactly  to  the  farthing  !  May  our  future 
masters  resemble  him  !  May  he  be  ever  loved  by  the  clerks, 
even  when  he  shall  be  no  more !  " 

Then  follow  thirty-three  reports  of  receptions  of 
clerks,  which  were  distinguished  by  diverse  hand- 
writings and  inks,  phrases,  signatures  and  praises 
of  good  cheer  and  wines  which  seemed  to  prove  that 
the  report  was  drawn  up  and  signed  during  the  ses- 
sion, inter  pocula. 

Finally,  under  date  of  the  month  of  June,  1822, 
the  time  that  Desroches  took  the  oath,  this  consti- 
tutional entry  was  found : 

"  1,  the  undersigned,  Francois-Claude-Marie  Godeschal, 
called  upon  by  Master  Desroches  to  perform  the  difficult 
duties  of  chief  clerk  in  an  office  in  which  the  practice  was  to 
be  made,  having  learned  from  Master  Derville,  from  whom  I 
came,  of  the  existence  of  the  famous  architriclino-basochian 
archives  that  are  celebrated  at  the  Palais,  have  begged  our 
gracious  master  to  ask  them  of  his  predecessor,  for  it  was 
important  to  discover  this  document  bearing  date  the  year 
1786,  which  is  connected  with  other  archives  deposited  in  the 
Palais,  the  existence  of  which  has  been  certified  to  us  by 
Messieurs  Terrasse  and  Duclos,  Keepers  of  the  Records,  and 
by  the  aid  of  which  we  go  back  to  the  year  1525,  in  finding 
in  the  clerical  manners  and  culinary  characteristics,  historical 
indications  of  the  highest  value. 

"  This  request  having  been  granted,  the  office  has  come 
into  possession  this  day  of  these  testimonies  of  the  respect 
which  our  predecessors  constantly  paid  to  the  Goddess  Bottle 
and  to  good  cheer. 

"  Consequently,  for  the  edification  of  our  successors  and 
to  connect  the  chain  of  times  and  of  goblets,  I  have  in- 
vited Messieurs  Doublet,  second  clerk  ;  Vassal,  third  clerk  ; 


A  START   IN   LIFE  I93 

Herisson  and  Grandemain,  clerks,  and  Dumets,  junior  clerk, 
to  breakfast  next  Sunday  at  the  Cheval  Rouge,  on  the  Quai 
Saint-Bernard,  where  we  will  celebrate  the  conquest  of  this 
book  which  contains  the  charter  of  our  guzzlings. 

"This  Sunday,  June  27,  were  drunk  twelve  bottles  of  dif- 
ferent wines  found  to  be  exquisite.  There  were  remarked  the 
two  melons,  the  pates  after  the  jus  Romanum,  a  filet  of  beef,  a 
cake  with  mushroomibus.  Mademoiselle  Mariette,  the  chief 
clerk's  illustrious  sister  and  leading  star  of  the  Royal  Acad- 
emy of  Music  and  Dancing,  having  put  at  the  disposal  of  the 
office,  seats  in  the  orchestra  for  the  performance  this  evening, 
record  is  made  of  this  generosity.  Moreover,  it  is  decreed 
that  the  clerks  shall  betake  themselves  in  a  body  to  this 
noble  lady's  house  to  thank  her,  and  declare  to  her  that  on 
the  occasion  of  her  first  lawsuit,  if  the  devil  should  send  her 
one,  she  shall  pay  only  the  costs  ;  which  is  decreed. 

"Godeschal  was  proclaimed  the  flower  of  Basoche  and 
especially  a  good  boy.  May  a  man  who  treats  so  well  be 
soon  in  treaty  for  a  practice !  " 

There  were  wine  stains,  ink  blots  and  flourishes 
that  resembled  fireworks.  To  give  a  clear  under- 
standing of  the  seal  of  truth  which  they  knew  how 
to  impress  on  this  register,  it  will  suffice  to  copy  the 
report  of  the  pretended  reception  given  to  Oscar : 

"  This  day,  Monday,  November  25,  1822,  after  a  session 
held  yesterday  in  the  Rue  de  la  Cerisaie,  in  the  Arsenal 
quarter,  at  the  house  of  Madame  Clapart,  mother  of  the 
Basochian  aspirant,  Oscar  Husson,  we,  the  undersigned, 
declare  that  the  reception  banquet  surpassed  our  expectations. 
It  consisted  of  black  and  red  radishes,  gherkins,  anchovies, 
butter  and  olives  for  side-dishes  ;  of  a  savory  soup  with  rice, 
that  showed  maternal  solicitude,  for  we  recognized  in  it  a 
delicious  taste  of  poultry,  and,  as  the  candidate  acknowl- 
edged, we  learned  that  in  effect  the  stewed  giblets,  finely 
13 


194  A  START  IN  LIFE 

prepared  by  Madame  Clapart,  had  been  judiciously  inserted 
in  tlie  home  pot  with  a  care  that  is  taken  only  by  house- 
keepers. 

'Utem,  the  stew  surrounded  by  a  sea  of  jelly,  due  to  the 
said  Oscar's  mother. 

''Item,  an  ox  tongue  and  tomatoes  that  did  not  find  us 
automatous. 

''Item,  a  pigeon  stew  so  tasty  as  to  make  one  believe  that 
the  angels  had  watched  over  it. 

"Item,  a  timbale  of  macaroni  before  pots  of  chocolate  with 
cream. 

"Item,  a  dessert  made  up  of  eleven  delicate  dishes,  among 
which,  in  spite  of  the  state  of  intoxication  into  which  six- 
teen bottles  of  exquisitely  chosen  wines  had  thrown  us, 
we  remarked  a  peach  stew  of  august  and  prune-like 
delicacy." 

"  The  Roussillon  wines  and  those  of  the  vineyards  of  the 
Rhone  completely  put  in  the  shade  those  of  Champagne  and 
Burgundy.  A  bottle  of  maraschino  and  one  of  kirsch,  despite 
the  exquisite  coffee,  completely  plunged  us  into  such  bibulous 
ecstasy  that  one  of  us,  Sieur  Herisson,  found  himself  in  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne  while  he  still  thought  that  he  was  in  the 
Boulevard  du  Temple;  and  that  Jacquinaut,  the  junior 
clerk,  only  fourteen  years  old,  spoke  to  ladies  of  the  age  of 
fifty-seven,  taking  them  for  women  of  easy  morals;  report 
agreed  to. 

"  There  is  in  the  statutes  of  our  order  a  strictly  observed 
law,  that  is  to  let  aspirants  to  the  privileges  of  the  basoche 
regulate  the  splendors  of  their  welcome  according  to  their 
means,  for  it  is  of  public  notoriety  that  no  one  with  an  income 
gives  himself  up  to  Themis,  and  that  every  clerk  is  rather 
severely  kept  in  check  by  his  father  and  mother.  And 
so  we  record  with  unstinted  praise  the  conduct  of  Madame 
Clapart,  the  widow  of  her  first  husband,  Monsieur  Husson, 
the  father  of  the  candidate,  who,  let  us  say,  is  worthy  of 
the  hurrahs  that  were  shouted  at  dessert ;  which  all  of  us 
have  signed." 


A  START  IN   LIFE  I95 

Three  clerks  had  already  been  caught  by  this 
mystification,  and  three  real  receptions  were  re- 
corded in  this  imposing  register. 

The  day  of  the  arrival  of  each  neophyte  in  the 
office,  the  little  clerk  had  put  in  their  place  on  their 
memorandum  tablets  the  architriclifio-basochiennes 
archives,  and  the  clerks  enjoyed  the  sight  presented 
by  the  countenance  of  the  new-comer  whilst  he  was 
studying  these  comic  pages.  Inter  pocula,  all  of  the 
candidates  had  learned  the  secret  of  this  basochian 
farce;  and  this  revelation  inspired  them,  as  was 
hoped,  with  the  desire  of  mystifying  the  clerks  to 
come. 

The  reader  may  now  imagine  the  expression  as- 
sumed by  the  four  clerks  and  the  junior  clerk  at 
these  words  of  Oscar's,  who  had  in  his  turn  become 
a  mystifier : 

"Bring  out  the  book!" 

Ten  minutes  after  this  exclamation,  a  handsome 
young  man,  of  fine  figure  and  pleasant  countenance, 
presented  himself,  asked  for  Monsieur  Desroches, 
and  unhesitatingly  gave  his  name  to  Godeschal. 

"I  am  Frederic  Marest,"  he  said,  "and  have  come 
to  take  the  place  of  third  clerk  here." 

"Monsieur  Husson,"  said  Godeschal  to  Oscar, 
"show  the  gentleman  his  place,  and  initiate  him 
into  the  habits  of  our  work." 

Next  day  the  clerk  found  the  book  laid  across  his 
desk;  but  after  having  run  through  the  first  pages 
of  it,  he  took  to  laughing,  did  not  invite  the  office, 
and  replaced  it  in  front  of  him. 


196  A  START  IN  LIFE 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  just  as  he  was  leaving 
about  five  o'clock,  "I  have  a  first  cousin  who  is 
notary's  clerk  with  Master  Leopold  Mannequin,  and 
I  will  consult  him  as  to  what  I  should  do  in  regard 
to  my  welcome." 

"That's  bad,"  Godeschal  exclaimed,  "that  future 
magistrate  does  not  act  like  a  novice!" 

"We  will  tease  him,"  said  Oscar. 

Next  day,  at  two  o'clock,  Oscar  saw  entering, 
and  recognized  in  the  person  of  Mannequin's  chief 
clerk,  Georges  Marest. 

"Well!  behold  Ali  Pasha's  friend,"  he  exclaimed 
in  an  off-hand  way. 

"What!  you  here,  ambassador,"  Georges  replied, 
remembering  Oscar. 

"Well,  you  know  each  other,  then.-*"  Godeschal 
asked  Georges. 

"I  think  so,  indeed;  we  did  stupid  things  to- 
gether," said  Georges,  "but  that  was  over  two 
years  ago.  Yes,  I  left  Crottat's  to  go  to  Manne- 
quin's, precisely  because  of  that  affair." 

"What  affair?"  Godeschal  asked. 

"Oh!  nothing,"  Georges  replied  on  a  sign 
from  Oscar.  "We  wanted  to  mystify  a  peer 
of  France,  and  it  was  he  who  threw  us.  Ah, 
there!  you  want,  then,  to  put  up  a  job  on  my 
cousin — " 

"We  put  up  no  jobs,"  Oscar  said,  with  dignity, 
"this  is  our  charter." 

And  he  offered  the  famous  register  open  at  a  place 
where  was  a  sentence  of  exclusion  issued  against  a 


II 


A  START  IN   LIFE  1 97 

refractory  who,  from  stinginess,  had  been  forced  to 
leave  the  office  in  1788. 

"Indeed,  I  think  it's  a  job,  for  here  are  its 
marks,"  Georges  replied,  as  he  pointed  to  those 
mock  archives.  "But  we,  my  cousin  and  I,  are 
rich;  we  will  get  up  a  feast  such  as  you  have  never 
had,  and  that  will  stimulate  your  imagination  for 
reporting.  To-morrow,  Sunday,  at  the  Rocher  de 
Cancale  at  two  o'clock.  Afterward  I  will  bring  you 
to  spend  the  evening  at  the  house  of  the  Marquise 
de  las  Florentinas  y  Cabirolos,  where  we  will  play 
and  where  you  will  find  the  pick  of  the  women  of 
fashion.  So,  gentlemen  of  the  committing  tribunal," 
he  continued  with  notarial  haughtiness,  "you  must 
dress,  and  know  how  to  carry  wine  like  the  lords  of 
the  Regency — " 

"Hurrah !"  exclaimed  the  office  as  with  one  voice. 
"Bravo! — Very  well!  Long  life!  Long  live  the 
Marests! — " 

"Pontins!"  exclaimed  the  junior  clerk. 

"Well,  what's  the  matter  there?"  the  master 
asked  as  he  looked  out  of  his  private  office.  "Ah! 
it's  you,  Georges,"  he  said  to  the  chief  clerk;  "I  see 
what  you're  after ;  you  have  come  to  corrupt  my 
clerks." 

And  he  went  into  his  private  office  and  called 
Oscar  thither. 

"Look  ye,  here  are  five  hundred  francs,"  he  said 
to  him  as  he  opened  his  cash  box;  "go  to  the  Palais 
and  get  from  the  Registrar  of  Decrees  the  judgment 
in  the  case  of  Vandenesse  vs.  Vandenesse,  we  must 


198  A  START  IN  LIFE 

effect  service  this  evening,  if  possible.  I  have 
promised  a  fee  of  twenty  francs  to  Simon;  wait  for 
the  decision,  if  it  is  not  ready;  don't  allow  yourself 
to  be  talked  out  of  it,  for  Derville  is  capable,  in  his 
client's  interest,  of  putting  difficulties  in  our  way. 
Comte  Felix  Vandenesse  is  more  powerful  than  his 
brother,  the  ambassador,  our  client.  So  keep  your 
eyes  open,  and  on  the  slightest  difficulty  come  back 
and  consult  me." 

Oscar  left  with  the  intention  of  distinguishing 
himself  in  this  little  skirmish,  the  first  affair  that 
offered  itself  since  his  installation. 


After  the  departure  of  Georges  and  Oscar,  Gode- 
schal  broached  to  his  new  clerk  the  pleasantry 
concealed,  in  his  opinion,  under  this  Marquise  de 
las  Florentinas  y  Cabirolos;  but  Frederic,  with  a 
procuretir-geniral' s  coolness  and  seriousness,  con- 
tinued his  cousin's  mystification;  by  his  way  of 
answering  and  by  his  mannerisms  he  persuaded  the 
whole  office  that  the  Marquise  de  las  Florentinas 
was  the  widow  of  a  Spanish  grandee,  to  whom  his 
cousin  was  paying  court.  Born  in  Mexico  and  the 
daughter  of  a  Creole,  this  young  and  rich  widow 
was  distinguished  for  the  easy  manners  of  women 
born  in  those  climates. 

"She  likes  to  laugh,  she  likes  to  drink,  she  likes 
to  sing  as  we  do!"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  quoting 
Beranger's  famous  song.  "Georges,"  he  added,' 
"is  very  rich;  he  has  inherited  from  his  father  who 
was  a  widower,  who  left  him  an  income  of  eighteen 
thousand  francs,  and  with  the  twelve  thousand 
francs  that  our  uncle  has  just  left  each  .of  us,  he  has 
thirty  thousand  a  year.  And  so  he  has  paid  his 
debts  and  is  giving  up  the  notaryship.  He  hopes 
to  be  Marquis  de  las  Florentinas,  for  the  young 
widow  is  a  marchioness  in  her  own  right  and  is 
privileged  to  bestow  her  titles  on  her  husband." 

If  the  clerks  remained  extremely  doubtful  in 
regard  to  the  marchioness,  the  double  prospect  of 

(199) 


20O  A  START  IN   LIFE 

a  breakfast  at  the  Rocker  de  Cancale  and  that 
fashionable  evening  threw  them  into  excessive  joy. 
They  were  all  reserved  in  regard  to  the  Spanish 
woman,  so  as  to  judge  of  her  as  a  last  resort  when 
tliey  appeared  in  her  presence. 

This  Marquise  de  las  Florentinas  y  Cabirolos 
was  merely  Mademoiselle  Agathe-Florentine  Cabi- 
rolle,  first  dancer  at  the  Gaite  theatre,  at  whose 
house  Uncle  Cardot  sang  La  Mire  Godichon.  A 
year  after  the  very  reparable  loss  of  the  late  Madame 
Cardot,  the  happy  merchant  met  Florentine  as  she 
was  leaving  the  Coulon  class.  Struck  by  the  beauty 
of  this  choregraphical  flower — Florentine  was  then 
thirteen — the  retired  merchant  followed  her  as  far 
as  the  Rue  Pastourelle,  where  he  had  the  pleasure 
of  learning  that  the  future  ornament  of  the  ballet 
owed  her  life  to  a  mere  portress.  In  a  fortnight  the 
mother  and  the  daughter,  settled  in  the  Rue  de 
Crussol,  enjoyed  modest  comfort  there.  It  was, 
'then,  to  that  protector  of  the  arts,  as  the  stereotyped 
phrase  has  it,  that  the  stage  is  indebted  for  this 
talent.  That  generous  Mec^nas  then  made  these 
two  creatures  almost  wild  with  joy  by  offering  them 
mahogany  furniture,  hangings,  rugs  and  a  full 
supply  of  kitchen  utensils;  he  enabled  them  to 
engage  a  housekeeper,  and  gave  them  two  hundred 
and  fifty  francs  a  month.  Old  Cardot,  adorned 
with  his  pigeon  wings,  then  seemed  to  be  an  angel, 
and  was  treated  as  a  benefactor  ought  to  be.  To 
the  good  man's  passion  it  was  the  golden  age. 

For  three  years  the  singer  of  La  Mere  Godichon 


A  START   IN   LIFE  201 

had  a  high  time  of  it  supporting  Mademoiselle 
CabiroUe  and  her  mother  in  this  little  tenement, 
only  a  few  steps  from  the  theatre ;  then,  out  of  love 
for  choregraphy,  he  employed  Vestris  as  master  to 
his  protegee.  And  so,  about  1820,  he  had  the  happi- 
ness of  seeing  Florentine  dancing  her  first  step  in 
the  ballet  of  a  spectacular  melodrama  entitled  the 
Ruins  of  Babylon.  Florentine  had  then  seen  sixteen 
Springs.  Some  time  after  this  start,  old  Cardot 
had  already  become  an  old  skinflint  in  regard  to  his 
protegee;  but,  as  he  had  the  delicacy  to  understand 
that  a  stage  dancer  at  the  Gaite  had  a  certain  rank 
to  maintain,  he  raised  his  monthly  assistance  to  five 
hundred  francs,  and  if  he  did  not  become  an  angel 
again,  he  was  at  least  a  friend  for  life,  a  second 
father.     It  was  the  silver  age. 

From  1820  to  1823,  Florentine  acquired  the  ex- 
perience which  all  dancing  girls  ought  to  enjoy  from 
ninteen  until  twenty-three.  Among  her  friends 
were  the  illustrious  Mariette  and  Tullia,  two  lead- 
ing stars  of  the  Opera;  Florine,  then  poor  Coralie, 
so  soon  carried  off  from  the  arts,  from  love  and 
from  Camusot.  As  little  old  Cardot  had  on  his 
part  added  five  more  years  to  his  life,  he  had  fallen 
into  the  indulgence  of  that  half-paternalism  that  old 
men  conceive  for  young  persons  of  talent,  whom 
they  have  brought  up  and  whose  success  has  become 
theirs.  Moreover,  where  and  how  would  a  man  of 
sixty-eight  have  formed  a  new,  like  attachment, 
found  another  Florentine,  who  so  well  knew  his 
habits  and  at  whose  house  he  could  sing  with  his 


202  A   START  IN   LIFE 

friends  La  Mere  Godichon  ?  Little  old  Cardot  ac- 
cordingly found  himself  under  a  yoke  that  was  half 
conjugal  and  of  irresistible  force.  It  was  the  bronze 
age. 

During  the  five  years  of  the  gold  and  silver  ages 
Cardot  saved  ninety  thousand  francs.  This  old 
man,  full  of  experience,  had  foreseen  that  when  he 
would  reach  three-score  and  ten  Florentine  would 
be  in  her  majority;  she  would,  perhaps,  make  her 
debut  at  the  Opera,  no  doubt  she  would  want  to 
display  the  splendor  of  a  star  of  the  first  magnitude. 
Some  days  before  the  evening  in  question  old 
Cardot  had  spent  forty-five  thousand  francs  in  order 
to  put  his  Florentine  on  a  certain  footing,  and  he 
had  re-engaged  for  her  the  old  tenement  in  which 
the  late  Coralie  had  made  Camusot  happy.  In 
Paris  there  are  tenements  and  houses  as  there  are 
streets  that  are  predestined.  Enriched  by  a  magni- 
ficent display  of  silver,  the  Gaite  theatre  star  gave 
fine  dinners,  spent  three  hundred  francs  a  month 
on  her  toilet,  no  longer  went  out  except  in  a  livery 
carriage,  and  had  a  chambermaid,  a  cook  and  a  little 
lackey.  In  short,  they  were  ambitious  to  make  a 
first  appearance  at  the  Opera.  The  Cocon  d'Or 
then  did  homage  to  its  former  head  for  its  most 
splendid  products  in  order  to  please  Mademoiselle 
Cabirolle,  called  Florentine,  as  it  had,  three  years 
before,  supplied  Coralie's  wants,  but  always  un- 
known to  old  Cardot's  daughter,  for  father  and  son- 
in-law  understood  each  other  wonderfully  well,  in 
order   to   preserve   decorum    in   the   bosom  of  the 


A  START  IN   LIFE  203 

family.  Madame  Camusot  knew  nothing  of  her 
husband's  dissipations  nor  of  her  father's  morals. 
The  magnificence,  then,  that  shone  in  the  Rue  de 
Vendome,  at  Mademoiselle  Florentine's  would  have 
satisfied  the  most  ambitious  of  supernumeraries. 
After  having  been  master  for  seven  years,  Cardot 
felt  himself  drawn  along  in  tow  to  a  power  of  un- 
limited caprice.  But  the  unfortunate  old  man  was 
in  love!  Florentine  was  to  close  his  eyes  for  him, 
and  he  intended  to  bequeath  to  her  a  hundred  thou- 
sand francs.     The  iron  age  had  set  in. 


* 

Georges  Marest,  worth  an  income  of  thirty  thou- 
sand francs,  a  handsome  young  man,  courted  Flo- 
rentine. Ail  danseuses  pretend  to  love  as  their  pro- 
tectors love  them,  to  have  a  young  man  who  escorts 
them  when  out  walking  and  arranges  silly  country 
parties  for  them.  Though  disinterested,  the  fancy 
of  a  star  is  always  a  passion  that  costs  a  trifle  to  the 
happy  chosen  mortal.  It  is  dinners  at  the  restaurants, 
boxes  at  the  theatre,  carriages  to  go  out  into  the 
environs  of  Paris  and  return,  choice  wines  profusely 
consumed,  for  dancing  girls  live  as  formerly  lived 
athletes.  Georges  amused  himself  as  young  men 
amuse  themselves  who  pass  from  paternal  discipline 
to  independence,  and  his  uncle's  death,  almost  doub- 
ling his  means,  changed  his  ideas.  As  long  as  he 
had  only  the  eighteen  thousand  francs  income  left 
by  his  father  and  mother,  his  intention  was  to  be  a 
notary;  but,  according  to  his  cousin's  remarks  to 
Desroches'  clerks,  one  must  be  stupid  to  enter  on 
a  profession  with  the  means  that  one  has  when  one 
leaves  it.  Accordingly,  the  chief  clerk  celebrated 
his  first  day  of  liberty  by  that  breakfast  which 
served  at  the  same  time  to  pay  his  cousin's  wel- 
come. Wiser  than  Georges,  Frederic  persisted  in 
following  an  administrative  career.  As  a  handsome 
young  man,  as  well  formed  and  as  experienced  as 
Georges,  might  very  well  marry  a  rich  Creole, — as, 

(205) 


206  A  START  IN   LIFE 

according  to  Frederic's  statement  to  his  future 
comrades,  the  Marquis  de  las  Florentinas  y  Cabirolos 
had  indeed  been  able  to  do  in  his  old  days,  in  tak- 
ing as  wife  a  pretty  girl  rather  than  a  noble  one, — 
the  clerks  of  Desroches'  office,  all  sprung  from  poor 
families,  never  having  frequented  fashionable  soci- 
ety, put  on  their  best  clothes,  all  rather  impatient 
to  see  the  Mexican  Marquise  de  las  Florentinas  y 
Cabirolos. 

"What  a  happiness,"  said  Oscar  to  Godeschal  on 
getting  up  in  the  morning,  "it  is  to  me  to  have 
ordered  a  new  coat,  trousers  and  waistcoat,  a  pair 
of  boots,  and  for  my  dear  mother  to  have  made  a 
new  outfit  for  me  on  the  occasion  of  my  promotion 
to  the  rank  of  second  clerk !  I  have  six  frilled  shirts 
of  fine  linen  out  of  the  twelve  that  she  gave  me. 
We  are  now  going  to  show  ourselves  off!  Ah!  if 
one  of  us  could  carry  off  the  marchioness  from  that 
Georges  Marest — " 

"What  a  fine  occupation  for  a  clerk  in  Master 
Desroches'  office!"  Godeschal  exclaimed.  "You 
will  never,  then,  overcome  your  vanity,  you 
naughty  boy?" 

"Ah!  sir,"  said  Madame  Clapart,  who  came  to 
bring  cravats  to  her  son  and  who  heard  the  chief 
clerk's  remark,  "God  grant  that  my  Oscar  follow 
your  good  advice.  That's  what  I  have  been  con- 
stantly telling  him:  'Imitate  Monsieur  Godeschal; 
listen  to  his  counsels!'  " 

"He  is  going,  madame,"  the  chief  clerk  replied, 
"but  he  will  not  have  to  make  many  mistakes  like 


A    START  IN   LIFE  207 

that  of  yesterday  to  ruin  himself  in  his  master's 
estimation.  The  master  does  not  understand  that 
one  knows  not  how  to  succeed.  As  a  first  trial  in 
business,  he  instructs  your  son  to  get  a  copy  of  the 
judgment  in  an  affair  of  succession  in  which  two 
great  lords,  two  brothers,  are  in  litigation,  and  Oscar 
allowed  himself  to  be  hoodwinked. — The  master 
was  furious.  I  had  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  repair 
this  stupid  blunder  by  going  this  morning  at  ten 
o'clock  to  see  the  registry  clerk,  from  whom  I  got 
assurance  of  having  judgment  given  at  half-past 
seven  to-morrow." 

"Ah!"  Oscar  exclaimed  as  he  went  to  his  first 
clerk  and  clasped  his  hand,  "you  are  indeed  a  true 
friend." 

"Ah!  sir,"  said  Madame  Clapart,  "a  mother  is 
happy  in  knowing  that  her  son  has  a  friend  such  as 
you,  and  you  may  count  on  a  gratitude  that  will  end 
only  with  my  life.  Oscar,  do  not  trust  that 
Georges  Marest,  he  has  already  been  the  cause  of 
your  first  misfortune  in  life." 

"In  what  respect,  then?"  Godeschal  asked. 

The  too  confiding  mother  then  briefly  explained 
to  the  chief  clerk  the  adventure  that  had  happened 
to  her  poor  Oscar  in  the  Pierrotin  coach. 

"I  feel  sure,"  said  Godeschal,  "that  that  joker 
has  put  up  some  trick  on  us  for  this  evening. — As 
for  me,  1  will  not  go  to  the  Marquise  de  las  Flo- 
rentinas' ;  my  sister  needs  me  for  the  stipulating  of 
a  new  engagement,  1  will  leave  you,  then,  at  dessert; 
but,  Oscar,  be  on  your  guard.    They  will  try  perhaps 


208  A  START  IN  LIFE 

to  make  you  gamble,  and  Desroches'  office  must 
not  be  backward.  Well,  you  will  play  for  both 
of  us,  here  are  a  hundred  francs,"  said  that  good 
young  man  as  he  gave  that  sum  to  Oscar,  whose 
purse  was  going  to  be  emptied  by  the  shoemaker 
and  the  tailor.  "Be  prudent;  do  not  think  of  play- 
ing beyond  your  hundred  francs;  do  not  let  yourself 
be  fuddled  either  by  the  game  or  by  drinking. 
Saperlotte!  a  second  clerk  has  some  standing, 
he  ought  not  to  play  on  tick,  nor  exceed  a  certain 
limit  in  anything.  Once  a  second  clerk,  one 
ought  to  think  of  becoming  an  attorney.  So  neither 
drink  too  much  nor  play  too  much,  but  keep  a 
proper  bearing,  that  is  your  rule  of  conduct.  Espe- 
cially do  not  forget  to  be  home  by  midnight,  for  to- 
morrow you  must  be  at  the  Palais  at  seven  o'clock 
to  get  your  decree  there.  It  is  not  forbidden  to 
amuse  one's  self,  but  business  first." 

"Are  you  paying  close  attention,  Oscar?"  said 
Madame  Clapart.  "See  how  indulgent  Monsieur 
Godeschal  is,  and  how  well  he  knows  how  to  com- 
bine the  pleasures  of  youth  with  the  obligations  of 
his  profession." 

Madame  Clapart,  on  seeing  the  tailor  and  the 
shoemaker  arrive  and  make  their  demands  on 
Oscar,  remained  alone  for  a  moment  with  the  chief 
clerk,  to  pay  him  back  the  hundred  francs  that  he 
had  just  given. 

"Ah!  sir,"  she  said  to  him,  "a  mother's  bless- 
ing will  follow  you  everywhere  and  in  all  your 
undertakings," 


A  START  IN   LIFE  209 

The  mother  was  then  supremely  happy  in  seeing 
her  son  well  dressed;  she  brought  him  a  gold  watch 
bought  out  of  her  savings,  as  a  reward  for  his  con- 
duct. 

"You  will  draw  a  lot  in  the  conscription  a  week 
from  now,"  she  said  to  him,  "and  as  it  is  necessary 
to  make  provision,  in  case  you  should  draw  an  un- 
lucky number,  I  have  gone  to  see  your  Uncle 
Cardot;  he  is  quite  satisfied  with  you.  Delighted 
to  know  you  were  a  second  clerk  at  twenty,  and  at 
your  success  in  the  Law  School  examinations,  he 
has  promised  the  money  necessary  to  buy  you  a 
substitute.  Do  you  not  feel  a  certain  satisfaction 
at  seeing  how  good  conduct  is  rewarded?  If  you 
suffer  privations,  think  of  the  happiness  of  being 
able  to  negotiate  for  an  office  five  years  from  now. 
In  fine,  my  dear  boy,  think  how  happy  you  make 
your  mother." 

Oscar's  countenance,  somewhat  thin  from  study, 
had  assumed  an  appearance  on  which  business 
habits  had  impressed  a  serious  expression.  He  had 
stopped  growing,  and  his  beard  had  sprouted.  Youth 
at  last  made  way  for  manhood.  The  mother  could 
not  help  admiring  her  son,  and  she  embraced  him 
tenderly,  saying  to  him: 

"Amuse  yourself,  but  remember  this  good  Mon- 
sieur Godeschal's  advice.  Ah!  look  here,  I  was 
forgetting.  Here  is  our  friend  Moreau's  present,  a 
pretty  pocket-book." 

"I  need  it  so  much  the  more  as  the  master  has 
given  me  five  hundred  francs  to  get  that  damned 
14 


2IO  A  START  IN   LIFE 

decision  in  the  case  of  Vandenesse  vs.  Vandenesse 
and  that  I  do  not  want  to  leave  the  money  in  my 
room." 

"You  are  going  to  keep  it  on  your  person?"  the 
mother  said,  frightened.  "And  if  you  should  lose 
such  a  sum !  Shouldn't  you  rather  entrust  it  to 
Monsieur  Godeschal  ?" 

"Godeschal!"  exclaimed  Oscar,  who  thought  his 
mother's  idea  an  excellent  one. 

Godeschal,  like  all  clerks  on  Sunday,  had  his 
time  to  himself  between  ten  and  two  o'clock,  and 
had  already  gone  out. 

When  his  mother  had  left  him,  Oscar  went  to 
stroll  on  the  boulevards  while  waiting  for  breakfast 
time.  Why  not  parade  that  fine  toilet  which  he 
wore  with  a  pride  and  a  pleasure  that  will  be  re- 
called by  all  young  men  who  have  been  in  strait- 
ened circumstances  in  their  early  life?  A  pretty 
cashmere  waistcoat  with  blue  ground  and  shawl 
pattern,  black  cassimere  trousers  with  pleats,  a 
close-fitting  black  coat  and  a  cane  with  a  gilded 
knob  bought  out  of  his  savings  were  the  cause  of 
rather  natural  joy  to  this  poor  youth,  who  thought 
of  the  way  he  was  dressed  on  the  day  of  the  journey 
to  Presles,  remembering  the  effect  that  Georges 
had  then  produced  on  him.  Oscar  had  in  perspec- 
tive a  day  of  delights,  that  evening  he  was  to  see 
fashionable  society  for  the  first  time !  Let  us  ac- 
knowledge it;  in  a  clerk  to  whom  pleasures  were 
denied  and  who,  for  such  a  long  time,  had  aspired 
to   some   debauch,    the    feelings,    once  they   were 


A  START  IN   LIFE  211 

unchained,  might  lead  to  forgetful ness  of  the  wise 
advice  of  Godeschal  and  his  mother.  To  the  shame 
of  youth,  never  are  advice  and  warning  wanting. 
Besides  the  recommendations  of  the  morning,  Oscar 
felt  in  himself  a  feeling  of  aversion  against 
Georges;  he  felt  himself  humiliated  in  the  presence 
of  this  witness  to  the  scene  in  the  parlor  at  Presles, 
when  Moreau  had  flung  him  at  the  feet  of  the  Comte 
de  Serizy.  The  moral  order  has  its  laws,  they  are 
implacable,  and  one  is  always  punished  for  having 
disregarded  them.  There  is  especially  one  that  the 
animal  itself  obeys  without  discussion,  and  always. 
It  is  that  which  orders  us  to  shun  anyone  who  has 
injured  us  a  first  time,  either  intentionally  or 
unintentionally,  voluntarily  or  involuntarily.  The 
creature  from  which  we  have  received  injury  or 
displeasure  will  always  be  fatal  to  us.  Whatever 
be  its  rank,  by  whatever  degree  of  affection  it  be- 
longs to  us,  we  must  break  with  it,  it  is  sent  to  us 
by  our  evil  genius.  Though  the  Christian  feeling 
is  opposed  to  this  conduct,  obedience  to  this  terrible 
law  is  essentially  social  and  conservative.  The 
daughter  of  James  II.,  who  sat  on  her  father's 
throne,  must  have  inflicted  more  than  one  wound  on 
him  before  the  usurpation.  Judas  had  certainly 
aimed  some  murderous  blow  at  Jesus  before  betray- 
ing Him.  There  is  an  internal  vision  in  us,  the 
eye  of  the  soul,  which  has  a  presentiment  of  catas- 
trophes, and  the  repugnance  that  we  feel  for  this 
fatal  being  is  the  result  of  this  foresight;  if  religion 
orders   us    to    overcome    it,    there    remains   to   us 


212  A  START  IN   LIFE 

distrust,  to  the  voice  of  which  we  should  never  cease 
to  listen.  Could  Oscar  at  twenty  have  so  much  wis- 
dom ?  Alas !  when,  at  half-past  two,  Oscar  entered 
the  salon  of  the  Rocher  de  Cancaky  where  were  three 
invited  guests,  besides  the  clerks,  namely,  an  old 
captain  of  dragoons  named  Giroudeau;  Finot,  a 
journalist  who  might  obtain  for  Florentine  a  debut 
at  the  Op6ra;  Du  Bruel,  an  author  who  was  a 
friend  of  Tullia,  one  of  Mariette's  rivals  at  the 
Opera,  the  second  clerk  felt  his  secret  hostility 
vanishing  at  the  first  handshakings,  in  the  first 
transports  of  a  conversation  between  young  folks, 
in  front  of  a  table  of  twelve  covers  splendidly 
served.    Georges,  moreover,  was  charming  to  Oscar. 

"You,"  he  said  to  him,  "follow  private  diplo- 
macy ;  for  what  difference  is  there  between  an  am- 
bassador and  an  attorney?  Only  that  which 
separates  a  nation  from  an  individual.  Ambassadors 
are  the  attorneys  of  peoples !  If  1  can  be  of  any 
service  to  you,  come  and  see  me." 

"On  my  word,"  said  Oscar,  "I  can  acknowledge 
to  you  to-day  that  you  have  been  the  cause  of  a 
great  misfortune  to  me — " 

"Bah!"  Georges  remarked  after  having  listened 
to  the  story  of  the  clerk's  tribulations  ;  "but  it  was 
Monsieur  de  Serizy  that  behaved  himself  badly. 
His  wife — I  wouldn't  want  her.  And  it  is  all  very 
well  for  the  count  to  be  a  minister  of  State,  a  peer 
of  France,  I  wouldn't  want  to  be  in  his  red  skin. 
He  is  a  small-minded  man;  I  hold  him  in  great  con- 
tempt now." 


A  START  IN  LIFE  213 

Oscar  listened  with  real  pleasure  to  Georges'  pleas- 
antries regarding  the  Comte  de  Serizy,  for  they  to 
some  extent  lessened  the  gravity  of  his  error;  and 
he  entered  fully  into  the  hateful  feeling  of  the 
notary's  ex-clerk,  who  amused  himself  with  pre- 
dicting for  the  nobility  the  misfortunes  that  the 
middle-class  was  then  dreaming  of,  and  that  1830 
was  to  realize.  At  half-past  three  they  began  to 
officiate.  Dessert  appeared  only  at  eight  o'clock. 
Each  course  took  up  two  hours.  Only  clerks  can 
eat  so !  Stomachs  from  eighteen  to  twenty  are,  to 
the  medical  faculty,  inexplicable  facts.  The  wines 
were  worthy  of  Borrel,  who  at  that  time  filled  the 
place  of  the  illustrious  Balaine,  the  creator  of  the 
first  of  Parisian  restaurants  as  to  the  delicacy  and 
perfection  of  cooking;  that  is  to  say,  of  the  entire 
world. 

They  drew  up  the  report  of  this  Balthasar's  feast 
at  dessert,  by  beginning  with:  Inter  pocula  aurea 
restauranti,  qui  vulgo  dicitiir  Riipes  Cancali.  From 
this  beginning  the  reader  may  imagine  the  fine  page 
that  was  added  to  this  golden  book  of  basochian 
banquets. 

Godeschal  disappeared  after  having  signed,  leav- 
ing the  eleven  fellow-guests,  stimulated  by  the  old 
captain  of  the  Imperial  Guard,  to  give  themselves  up 
to  the  wines,  toasts  and  liqueurs  of  a  dessert,  the 
pyramids  of  fruits  and  choice  dainties  of  which  re- 
sembled the  obelisks  of  Thebes.  At  half-past  ten 
the  junior  clerk  of  the  office  was  in  a  condition  that 
did  not  allow  him  to  remain  any  longer;  Georges 


214  A  START  IN  LIFE 

packed  him  in  a  hack,  gave  his  mother's  address  and 
paid  for  the  jaunt  The  ten  fellow-guests,  all  tipsy 
as  Pitt  and  Dundas,  then  spoke  of  going  on  foot 
along  the  boulevards,  seeing  how  fme  the  weather 
was,  to  the  house  of  the  Marquise  de  las  Florentinas 
y  Cabirolos,  where,  about  midnight,  they  were  to 
find  the  most  brilliant  society.  All  were  most 
anxious  to  fill  their  lungs  with  fresh  air ;  but,  with 
the  exception  of  Georges,  Giroudeau,  Du  Bruel  and 
Finot,  who  were  accustomed  to  the  orgies  of  Paris, 
not  one  was  able  to  walk.  Georges  sent  after  three 
road  wagons  to  a  livery  stable  and  paraded  his 
people  for  an  hour  on  the  outer  boulevards,  from 
Montmartre  to  the  Barriere  du  Trone.  They  returned 
by  way  of  Bercy,  the  quays  and  the  boulevards,  as 
far  as  the  Rue  de  Vendome. 

The  clerks  were  still  fluttering  in  the  heaven  filled 
with  fancies  into  which  drunkenness  carries  young 
men,  v/hen  their  Amphitryon  introduced  them  into 
Florentine's  parlors.  There,  shone  theatrical  prin- 
cesses who,  no  doubt  informed  of  Frederic's  pleas- 
antry, amused  themselves  by  aping  the  women  of 
fashion.  They  then  partook  of  ices.  The  lighted 
candles  made  the  candelabras  glare.  The  lackeys 
of  Tullia,  of  Madame  du  Val-Noble  and  of  Florine,  all 
in  full  livery,  served  dainties  on  silver  platters. 
The  hangings,  masterpieces  of  Lyonnaise  industry, 
fastened  with  gold  cords,  dazzled  the  eye.  The 
carpet  flowers  made  the  room  look  like  a  garden. 
Knickknacks  of  the  richest  kind,  and  curiosities,  flut- 
tered before  the  gaze.     In  the  first  moment,  and  in 


A  START  IN   LIFE  21$ 

the  condition  in  which  Georges  had  put  them,  the 
clerks,  and  especially  Oscar,  believed  in  the  Mar- 
quise de  las  Florentinas  y  Cabirolos.  Gold  glittered 
on  four  card-tables  arranged  in  the  bedroom.  In  the 
salon,  the  women  were  indulging  in  a  vingt-et-un 
held  by  Nathan,  the  famous  author.  After  having 
roamed,  tipsy  and  almost  asleep,  over  the  dark  outer 
boulevards,  the  clerks  reawoke,  then,  in  a  real 
Armida's  palace.  Oscar,  presented  by  Georges  to 
the  pretended  marchioness,  remained  quite  stupe- 
fied, not  recognizing  the  dancing  girl  of  the  Gaite  in 
this  woman  with  an  aristocratically  decollete  dress, 
enriched  with  lace,  almost  like  a  keepsake  vignette, 
and  who  received  him  with  graces  and  manners  that 
had  no  analogy  in  the  memory  or  in  the  imagination 
of  a  clerk  so  severely  trained.  After  having  ad- 
mired all  the  richness  of  that  tenement,  the  pretty 
women  who  lived  in  clover  there,  and  all  of 
whom  had  emulated  one  another  in  toilet  for  the 
inauguration  of  this  splendor,  Oscar  was  taken  by 
the  hand  and  led  by  Florentine  to  the  vingt-et-un 
table. 

"Come  and  let  me  present  you  to  the  beautiful 
Marquise  d'Anglade,  one  of  my  friends — " 

And  she  led  poor  Oscar  to  the  pretty  Fanny 
Beaupre,  who  for  two  years  past  had  taken  the 
place  of  the  late  Coralie  in  Camusot's  affections. 
This  young  actress  had  just  made  a  reputation  for 
herself  in  the  role  of  marchioness  in  a  melodrama  of 
the  Porte-Saint-Martin  entitled  Lm  Famille  d'Anglade, 
a  success  of  the  time. 


2l6  A  START  IN  LIFE 

"Here,  my  dear,"  said  Florentine,  "I  present  to 
you  a  charming  youth  whom  you  can  get  to  join  in 
your  game." 

"Ah!  how  charming  that  will  be,"  replied  the 
actress  with  a  seductive  smile  as  she  took  Oscar's 
measure;  "I  am  losing,  we  are  going  to  go  halves, 
are  we  not?" 

"Madame  la  Marquise,  I  am  at  your  orders,"  said 
Oscar  as  he  sat  down  beside  the  pretty  actress. 

"Put  up  your  money,"  she  said,  "I  will  play  it, 
you  will  make  me  happy !  Hold,  there  are  my  last 
hundred  francs — " 

And  the  false  marchioness  took  out  of  a  purse,  the 
slides  of  which  were  adorned  with  diamonds,  five 
gold  pieces.  Oscar  pulled  out  his  hundred  francs 
in  hundred  sou  pieces,  already  ashamed  to  mix 
ignoble  crowns  with  gold  coins.  In  ten  rounds  the 
actress  lost  the  two  hundred  francs. 

"Come,  that's  stupid!"  she  exclaimed;  "I  am 
going  to  make  the  bank,  I  am.  We  remain  together, 
do  we  not.-"'  she  said  to  Oscar. 

Fanny  Beaupre  had  stood  up,  and  the  young 
clerk,  who  saw  himself  as  well  as  her  the  object  of 
attention  on  the  part  of  the  entire  table,  did  not 
dare  to  withdraw  saying  that  his  purse  had  only  the 
devil  as  a  lodger.  Oscar  found  himself  voiceless, 
his  tongue  had  become  heavy  and  stuck  fast  to  the 
roof  of  his  mouth. 

"Lend  me  five  hundred  francs  ?"  asked  the  actress 
of  the  dancer. 

Florentine  brought  five  hundred  francs  which  she 


A  START   IN   LIFE  21/ 

had  gone  to  get  from  Georges,  who  had  just  had 
eight  rounds  at  ecarte. 

"Nathan  has  won  twelve  hundred  francs, "  said 
the  actress  to  the  clerk.  "Bankers  always  win; 
don't  let  us  look  stupid,"  she  breathed  in  his  ear. 

People  who  have  heart,  imagination  and  impulse 
will  understand  how  poor  Oscar  opened  his  portfolio 
and  took  out  of  it  the  five  hundred  franc  note.  He 
looked  at  Nathan,  the  famous  author,  who  along 
with  Florine  took  to  playing  high  against  the  bank. 

"Come,  my  little  man,  seize  it!"  Fanny  Beaupre 
called  to  him  as  she  made  a  sign  to  Oscar  to  pick 
up  two  hundred  francs  that  Florine  and  Nathan  had 
punted. 

The  actress  did  not  spare  pleasantry  and  raillery 
on  those  who  lost.  She  enlivened  the  game  with 
tricks  that  Oscar  found  quite  singular;  but  joy 
stifled  these  reflections,  for  the  first  two  rounds 
brought  a  gain  of  two  thousand  francs.  Oscar  was 
anxious  to  feign  indisposition  and  fly,  leaving  his 
partner  there;  but  honor  nailed  him  to  the  spot. 
Three  other  rounds  carried  off  the  winnings.  Oscar 
felt  a  cold  perspiration  running  down  his  back,  he 
was  completely  brought  to  his  senses.  The  last 
two  rounds  carried  off  the  thousand  francs  of  the 
common  stake;  Oscar  was  thirsty,  and  swallowed 
in  quick  succession  three  glasses  of  iced  punch. 
The  actress  led  the  poor  clerk  into  the  bedroom, 
c?Joling  him  with  idle  stories.  But  when  there  the 
sense  of  his  error  so  overwhelmed  Oscar,  to  whom 
Desroches'  figure  appeared  as  in  a  dream,  that  he 


2l8  A  START  IN  LIFE 

went  and  sat  on  a  magnificent  ottoman  in  a  dark 
corner;  he  put  a  iiandkerciiief  to  his  eyes;  he  wept! 
Florentine  noticed  this  pose  of  sorrow  that  has  a 
character  of  sincerity  and  which  ought  to  arrest  the 
attention  of  a  mimic;  she  ran  to  Oscar,  removed 
the  band  from  his  eyes,  saw  the  tears,  and  led  him 
into  a  boudoir. 

"What  ails  you,  my  little  man?"  she  asked  him. 

To  this  voice,  to  these  words,  to  the  accent, 
Oscar,  who  recognized  a  maternal  kindness  in  the 
goodness  of  such  girls,  replied: 

"I  have  lost  five  hundred  francs  that  my  master 
gave  to  get  out  a  judgment  to-morrow,  I  have 
nothing  left  for  me  to  do  but  throw  myself  into  the 
river;  I  am  dishonored. — " 

"What  a  fool  you  are!"  said  Florentine.  "Stay 
there,  I  will  go  and  bring  you  a  thousand  francs,  you 
will  try  to  win  back  all ;  but  risk  only  five  hundred 
francs,  so  as  to  keep  your  master's  money.  Georges 
plays  ecarte  swagger ingly,  bet  on  him. — " 

In  the  difficult  position  in  which  Oscar  found 
himself,  he  accepted  the  proposition  made  by  the 
mistress  of  the  house. 

"Ah!"  he  said  to  himself,  "only  marchionesses 
are  capable  of  such  traits  as  those. — Beautiful, 
noble  and  superlatively  rich!  how  happy  is  that 
Georges!" 

He  received  the  thousand  francs  in  gold  from 
Florentine,  and  came  to  bet  on  his  mystifier. 
Georges  had  already  passed  four  times,  when  Oscar 
came  and  took  his  place  by  his  side.     With  pleasure 


A   START  IN   LIFE  219 

did  the  gamblers  see  this  new  better  coming,  for 
all,  with  the  instinct  of  gamblers,  took  sides  with 
Giroudeau,  the  old  officer  of  the  Empire. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Georges,  "you  will  be  pun- 
ished for  your  desertion,  I  feel  myself  in  the  vein. 
Come,  Oscar,  we  will  swamp  them!" 

Georges  and  his  partner  lost  five  consecutive 
rounds.  After  having  squandered  his  thousand 
francs,  Oscar,  who  was  seized  with  the  rage  for 
play,  wanted  to  take  the  cards.  As  the  result  of  a 
chance  rather  common  to  those  who  play  for  the 
first  time,  he  won;  but  Georges  turned  his  head  by 
his  advice;  he  told  him  to  throw  certain  cards,  and 
often  snatched  them  from  his  hands,  so  that  the 
struggle  between  these  two  wills,  these  two  inspira- 
tions, injured  the  run  of  luck.  And  so,  about  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  after  returns  of  fortune  and 
unexpected  gains,  always  drinking  punch,  Oscar 
got  to  have  only  a  hundred  francs.  He  arose  with 
a  heavy  and  addled  head,  advanced  a  few  steps  and 
fell  on  a  sofa  in  the  boudoir,  his  eyes  closed  in  a 
leaden  sleep. 

"Mariette,"  said  Fanny  Beaupre  to  Godeschal's 
sister,  who  had  arrived  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, "will  you  dine  here  to-morrow,  my  Camusot 
will  be  here  with  old  Cardot,  we  will  set  them 
wild?—" 

"What!"  exclaimed  Florentine,  "but  my  old 
chap  has  not  notified  me." 

"He  is  to  come  this  morning  to  tell  you  that 
he  will  sing  La  Mhe  Godkhon,"   Fanny  Beaupre 


220  A  START  IN  LIFE 

continued;  "it  is   indeed  the  least  ttiat  this   poor 
man  can  do,  to  make  a  present  of  the  tenement." 

"May  the  devil  take  him  with  his  orgies!"  Flo- 
rentine exclaimed.  "He  and  his  son-in-law  are 
worse  than  magistrates  or  than  theatre  managers. 
After  all  one  dines  very  well  here,  Mariette,"  she 
said  to  the  Opera  star,  "Cardot  always  orders  the 
bill  of  fare  at  Chevet's ;  come  with  your  Due  de 
Maufrigneuse,  we  will  laugh,  we  will  make  them 
dance  like  Tritons!" 

On  hearing  Cardot's  and  Camusot's  names  men- 
tioned, Oscar  made  an  effort  to  overcome  sleep ;  but 
he  could  only  stammer  a  word  that  was  not  heard, 
and  fell  back  on  the  silk  cushion. 

"Well,  you  have  provisions  for  your  night," 
Fanny  Beaupre  said,  laughing,  to  Florentine. 

"Oh!  the  poor  boy!  he  is  drunk  from  punch  and 
from  despair.  He  is  the  second  clerk  in  the  office 
in  which  your  brother  is,"  said  Florentine  to 
Mariette;  "he  has  lost  the  money  that  his  master 
had  entrusted  to  him  on  business  connected  with 
the  office.  He  wanted  to  kill  himself,  and  I  loaned 
him  a  thousand  francs,  which  those  brigands  Finot 
and  Giroudeau  won  from  him.     Poor  innocent!" 

"But  we  must  wake  him  up,"  said  Mariette; 
"my  brother  does  not  dally,  nor  his  master  either." 

"Oh!  wake  him  up  if  you  can,  and  take  him 
away,"  said  Florentine,  as  she  returned  to  her 
parlors  to  receive  the  farewells  of  those  who  were 
departing. 

They  started  to  dance  what  are  called  character 


A   START  IN   LIFE  221 

dances,  and  when  daylight  dawned  Florentine  went 
to  bed,  fatigued,  forgetting  Oscar,  of  whom  nobody 
thought,  but  who  slept  a  most  sound  sleep. 

About  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  a  terrible 
voice  woke  up  the  clerk  who,  recognizing  his  uncle 
Cardot,  thought  he  would  get  out  of  his  embarrass- 
ment by  feigning  sleep  and  hiding  his  face  in  the 
fine  yellow  velvet  cushion  on  which  he  had  spent 
the  night. 

"Verily,  my  little  Florentine,"  said  the  respect- 
able old  man,  "it  is  neither  wise  nor  genteel,  you 
danced  yesterday  in  Les  Ruines  and  you  spent  the 
night  in  an  orgie.  But  that  is  like  wanting  to  de- 
stroy your  freshness,  without  reckoning  that  there 
is  real  ingratitude  in  your  inaugurating  these  mag- 
nificent rooms  without  me,  with  strangers,  without 
my  knowledge! — Who  knows  what  has  happened?" 

"Old  monster!"  Florentine  exclaimed,  "have  you 
not  a  key  to  enter  at  any  hour  and  at  any  moment 
here.?  The  ball  ended  at  half-past  five,  and  you 
are  so  cruel  as  to  wake  me  up  at  eleven  o'clock!" 

"Half-past  eleven,  Titine,"  humbly  remarked 
Cardot ;  "I  rose  very  early  so  as  to  order  at  Chevet's 
a  dinner  fit  for  an  archbishop. — They  have  spoiled 
your  carpets;  what  kind  of  people  did  you  receive, 
then?"— 

"You  should  not  complain  about  it,  for  Fanny 
Beaupre  told  me  that  you  were  coming  with  Camu- 
sot,  and,  to  give  you  pleasure,  I  invited  Tullia,  Du 
Bruel,  Mariette,  the  Due  de  Maufrigneuse,  Florine 
and   Nathan.     So   you    will    have   the    five    finest 


222  A   START  IN   LIFE 

creatures  that  have  ever  seen  the  footlights  and 
they  will  dance  Zephira  steps  for  you." 

"It  is  suicide  to  lead  such  a  life!"  old  Cardot  ex- 
claimed. "How  many  broken  glasses !  what  pillage ! 
the  antechamber  makes  one  shudder — " 

At  that  moment  the  agreeable  old  man  stood 
stupid  and  as  if  charmed,  like  a  bird  attracted  by  a 
reptile.  He  observed  the  profile  of  a  young  body 
dressed  in  black  cloth. 

"Ah!  Mademoiselle  Cabirolle!"  he  said  at  last. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  she  asked. 

The  dancing  girl's  look  was  turned  in  the  same 
direction  as  that  of  little  old  Cardot;  and,  when  she 
recognized  the  second  clerk,  she  was  seized  with  a 
mad  fit  of  laughter  that  not  only  interrupted  the  old 
man,  but  that  compelled  Oscar  to  show  himself,  for 
Florentine  took  him  by  the  arm  and  shook  with 
laughter  on  seeing  the  two  contrite  countenances  of 
the  uncle  and  nephew. 

"You  here,  nephew?" — 

"Ah!  it's  your  nephew?"  Florentine  exclaimed, 
as  her  wild  laughter  broke  out  again.  "You  have 
never  spoken  to  me  of  that  nephew.  Mariette  did 
not  take  you  away,  then?"  she  said  to  Oscar,  who 
remained  as  though  petrified.  "What's  going  to 
become  of  this  poor  boy?" 

"Whatever  he  pleases,"  dryly  replied  goodman 
Cardot,  who  walked  toward  the  door  as  if  to  leave. 

"A  moment.  Papa  Cardot,  you  are  going  to  get 
your  nephew  out  of  the  scrape  he  has  got  into 
through  my  fault,  for  he  gambled  with  his  master's 


A  START   IN   LIFE  223 

money,  five  hundred  francs,  which  he  lost,  besides 
a  thousand  francs  of  mine  that  I  gave  him  so  that 
he  might  retrieve  himself." 

"You  wretch,  you  have  lost  fifteen  hundred  francs 
at  play,  at  your  age?" 

"Oh!  uncle,"  exclaimed  poor  Oscar,  whom  these 
words  plunged  to  the  bottom  of  the  horror  of  his 
position,  and  who  threw  himself  on  his  knees  before 
his  uncle,  with  clasped  hands.  "It  is  noon,  I  am 
lost,  dishonored. — Monsieur  Desroches  will  be  piti- 
less! An  important  affair  is  involved  on  which  he 
stakes  his  self-respect.  I  was  to  have  gone  this 
morning  to  get  from  the  registry  clerk  the  judgment 
in  the  case  of  Vandenesse  vs.  Vandenesse !  What 
has  happened? — What's  going  to  become  of  me? — 
Save  me  in  remembrance  of  my  father  and  my 
aunt! — Come  with  me  to  Monsieur  Desroches',  ex- 
plain my  case  to  him,  find  excuses — " 

These  phrases  were  launched  through  tears  and 
sobs  that  would  have  affected  the  sphinxes  of  the 
Luxor  desert. 

"Well,  old  skinflint,"  the  dancing  girl  exclaimed 
as  she  wept,  "will  you  let  your  own  nephew  be 
dishonored,  the  son  of  the  man  to  whom  you  owe 
your  fortune,  for  his  name  is  Oscar  Husson  ?  Save 
him,  or  Titine  gives  you  up  for  her  lord." 

"But  how  comes  he  to  be  here?"  the  old  man 
asked. 

"Well !  by  having  forgotten  the  hour  for  going  to 
get  the  judgment  that  he  speaks  of;  don't  you  see 
that  he  has  been  drinking,  that  he  fell  in  a  heap 


224  A  START  IN  LIFE 

there  from  sleep  and  fatigue?  Georges  and  his 
cousin  Frederic  gave  a  feast  yesterday  to  Desroches' 
clerks  at  the  Rocher  de  Cancale." 

Old  Cardot  looked  hesitatingly  at  the  dancing 
girl. 

"Come,  then,  old  monkey,  wouldn't  I  have  con- 
cealed him  better  if  it  were  otherwise?"  she 
exclaimed. 

"Well,  here  are  five  hundred  francs,  you  simple- 
ton!" said  Cardot  to  his  nephew,  "it  is  all  that  you 
will  ever  have  from  me !  Go  and  settle  with  your 
master,  if  you  can.  I  will  pay  the  thousand  francs 
that  this  young  lady  has  loaned  you ;  but  I  do  not 
want  ever  again  to  hear  your  name  mentioned." 

Oscar  fled,  not  wishing  to  hear  any  more;  but 
once  in  the  street,  he  knew  not  where  to  go. 


* 

The  chance  that  ruins  people  and  the  chance  that 
saves  them  made  equal  efforts  for  and  against  Oscar 
on  that  terrible  morning;  but  he  was  to  succumb 
with  a  master  who  did  not  let  up  on  an  affair  once 
it  was  spoiled.  On  returning  home,  Mariette, 
frightened  at  what  might  happen  to  her  brother's 
pupil,  had  written  a  note  to  Godeschal  in  which  she 
enclosed  a  five  hundred  franc  bill,  telling  her  brother 
of  the  drunkenness  and  misfortunes  that  had  be- 
fallen Oscar.  This  good  girl  went  to  sleep  after 
having  told  her  chambermaid  to  be  sure  and  go  with 
this  package  to  Desroches'  before  seven  o'clock. 
On  his  part  Godeschal,  as  he  got  up  at  six  o'clock, 
found  no  Oscar.  He  saw  into  it  all.  He  took  five 
hundred  francs  out  of  his  savings,  and  ran  to  the 
court  clerk  to  get  the  judgment  so  as  to  have  the 
intimation  of  it  ready  for  Desroches'  signature  at 
eight  o'clock.  Desroches,  who  always  got  up  at 
four,  entered  his  office  at  seven.  Mariette's  cham- 
bermaid, not  finding  her  mistress's  brother  in  his 
mansard,  went  down  to  the  office,  and  was  there 
received  by  Desroches,  to  whom  naturally  she  pre- 
sented the  package. 

"Is  it  on  office  business?"  the  master  asked.  "I 
am  Monsieur  Desroches." 

"Look  at  it,  sir,"  said  the  chambermaid. 

Desroches  opened  the  letter  and  read  it.  On 
15  (225) 


226  A  START  IN   LIFE 

seeing  in  it  the  five  liundred  franc  note,  he  went 
back  into  his  private  office,  furious  against  his 
second  clerk.  At  half-past  seven  he  heard  Gode- 
schal  dictating  the  intimation  of  judgment  to  the 
assistant  chief  clerk,  and  a  few  moments  after,  the 
good  Godeschal  entered  his  master's  room  in 
triumph. 

"Was  it  Oscar  Husson  who  went  this  morning  to 
Simon's.-"'  Desroches  asked. 

"Yes,  sir,"  Godeschal  replied. 

"Who,  then,  gave  him  the  money.?"  remarked 
the  attorney. 

"You,"  said  Godeschal,  "on  Saturday." 

"It  is  raining  five  hundred  franc  notes,  then!" 
exclaimed  Desroches. 

"See  here,  Godeschal,  you  are  a  fine  fellow;  but 
little  Husson  does  not  merit  so  much  generosity.  I 
hate  imbeciles,  but  still  more  do  I  hate  people  who 
make  mistakes  in  spite  of  the  paternal  care  that  one 
bestows  on  them."  He  gave  Godeschal  Mariette's 
letter  and  the  five  hundred  franc  note  that  she  had 
sent.  "You  will  excuse  me  for  having  opened  it," 
he  continued;  "your  sister's  servant  told  me  it  was 
an  office  affair.     You  will  dismiss  Oscar." 

"The  poor,  unhappy  boy,  what  harm  he  has  done 
me!"  said  Godeschal.  "That  big  good-for-nothing, 
Georges  Marest,  is  his  evil  genius,  he  must  shun 
him  as  he  would  the  plague ;  for  I  do  not  know  what 
mischief  he  might  do  by  a  third  meeting." 

"How  is  that?"  said  Desroches. 

Godeschal  briefly  told  about  the  mystification  on 


A  START  IN   LIFE  227 

the  journey  to  Presles.  "Ah!"  said  the  attorney, 
"on  one  occasion  Joseph  Bridau  spoke  to  me  of  that 
farce;  it  is  to  that  meeting  that  we  owe  the  Comte 
de  Serizy's  favor  in  behalf  of  his  brother." 

Just  then  Moreau  made  his  appearance,  for  there 
was  a  matter  of  importance  to  him  in  this  Vande- 
nesse  succession.  The  marquis  wanted  to  sell 
piecemeal  the  Vandenesse  estate,  and  his  brother 
the  count  was  opposed  to  this.  The  real  estate 
broker  then  felt  the  first  shock  of  the  just  complaints 
and  sinister  prophecies  that  Desroches  was  fulmi- 
nating against  his  ex-second  clerk,  and  as  a  result 
there  flashed  on  the  mind  of  this  unfortunate  youth's 
most  ardent  protector  the  opinion  that  Oscar's 
vanity  was  incorrigible. 

"Make  a  barrister  of  him,"  said  Desroches,  "he 
has  now  only  his  thesis  to  pass;  in  that  trade  his 
faults  will,  perhaps,  become  qualities,  for  self- 
esteem  gives  tongue  to  half  the  barristers." 

At  that  moment  Clapart,  who  had  fallen  sick, 
was  attended  by  his  wife,  a  difficult  task,  a  duty 
without  any  recompense.  The  employee  tormented 
this  poor  creature,  who  until  then  had  not  realized 
what  atrocious  vexations  and  venomous  sulkiness  a 
half  imbecile  man,  whom  poverty  has  made  sullenly 
furious,  allows  himsef  to  indulge  in  during  a  whole 
day's  private  conversation.  Delighted  to  be  able 
to  thrust  a  poisoned  dart  into  the  feeling  corner  of 
that  mother's  heart,  he  had  to  some  extent  guessed 
at  the  apprehensions  that  Oscar's  future  conduct 
and  faults  inspired  in  this   poor  woman.     Indeed, 


228  A  START  IN   LIFE 

when  a  mother  has  received  from  her  child  a  blow 
like  that  of  the  Presles  affair,  she  is  in  a  continual 
state  of  panic,  and  by  the  way  in  which  his  wife 
boasted  every  time  that  he  achieved  a  success, 
Clapart  recognized  the  extent  of  the  mother's  se- 
cret uneasiness,  and  he  kept  it  awake  on  every 
occasion. 

"At  last,  Oscar  is  getting  along  better  than  I  had 
hoped;  I  felt  certain  that  his  journey  to  Presles  was 
only  an  inconsistency  of  youth.  What  young  men 
are  there  who  do  not  make  mistakes?  That  poor 
child!  he  bears  up  heroically  against  the  privations 
that  he  would  not  have  known  if  his  poor  father 
had  lived.  God  grant  that  he  know  how  to  restrain 
his  passions!"  etc. 

Now,  while  so  many  catastrophes  were  happen- 
ing in  the  Rue  de  Vendome  and  the  Rue  de  Bethisy, 
Clapart,  seated  in  the  chimney-corner,  enveloped 
in  a  mean  dressing-gown,  was  looking  at  his  wife, 
who  was  engaged  in  preparing  at  the  same  time  on 
the  bedroom  hearth  broth  tisane  for  Clapart  and 
her  own  breakfast. 

"Oh  God!  I  would  like  very  much  to  know  how 
yesterday's  doings  ended.  Oscar  was  to  banquet 
at  the  Rocher  de  Cancale  and  go  in  the  evening  to  a 
marchioness's — " 

"Oh !  don't  be  uneasy,  sooner  or  later  the  mystery 
will  be  unfolded,"  her  husband  said  to  her.  "Do 
you  really  believe  in  that  marchioness.?  Come, 
now!  A  young  man  who  has  sense,  after  all,  and 
expensive  tastes,  like  Oscar,  finds  marchionesses  in 


A  START  IN   LIFE  229 

Spain,  but  at  the  price  of  gold !     He  will  fall  back 
some  morning  on  your  hands  with  debts — " 

"You  know  only  how  to  suggest  ideas  that  may 
drive  me  to  despair!"  Madame  Clapart  exclaimed. 
"You  complained  that  my  son  was  eating  your 
salary,  and  never  did  he  cost  you  anything.  For 
two  whole  years  you  have  had  no  pretext  for  speak- 
ing ill  of  Oscar,  now  there  he  is  second  clerk,  his 
uncle  and  Monsieur  Moreau  provide  for  everything, 
and  he  has,  moreover,  eight  hundred  francs  salary. 
If  we  have  bread  in  our  old  days  we  will  owe  it  to 
that  dear  child.     In  truth,  you  are  so  unjust — " 

"You  call  my  foresight  injustice!"  the  sick  man 
harshly  replied. 

At  that  moment  a  sharp  ringing  was  heard. 
Madame  Clapart  ran  to  open  the  door  and  remained 
in  the  outer  room  with  Moreau,  who  came  to  break 
the  force  of  the  blow  that  Oscar's  fresh  levity  was 
to  inflict  on  his  poor  mother. 

"What!  he  lost  office  money  ?"  Madame  Clapart 
exclaimed,  weeping. 

"Hm!  I  told  you  so!"  Clapart  exclaimed,  as  he 
showed  himself  like  a  spectre  at  the  parlor  door, 
whither  curiosity  had  attracted  him. 

"But  what  are  we  going  to  do  with  him  ?"  asked 
Madame  Clapart,  whose  grief  made  her  insensible 
to  this  thrust  of  Clapart's. 

"If  he  bore  my  name,"  Moreau  replied,  "I  would 
be  satisfied  with  seeing  him  drafted  in  the  conscrip- 
tion; and  if  he  drew  an  unlucky  number,  I  would 
not  pay  for  a  man  to  be  his  substitute.     This  is  the 


230  A   START  IN  LIFE 

second  time  that  your  son  has  blundered  from 
vanity.  Well,  vanity  will,  perhaps,  inspire  him 
with  brilliant  deeds,  which  will  recommend  him  in 
that  career.  Moreover,  six  years  of  military  service 
will  balance  his  head ;  and,  as  he  has  only  his  thesis 
to  pass,  he  will  not  be  so  badly  off  at  finding  him- 
self a  barrister  at  twenty-six,  if  he  wants  to  follow 
the  business  of  the  bar  after  having,  as  the  saying 
is,  paid  the  blood  tax.  This  time,  at  least,  he  will 
have  been  punished  severely,  he  will  have  gained 
experience,  and  contracted  the  habit  of  subordina- 
tion. Before  making  his  probation  at  the  Palais, 
he  will  have  made  his  probation  in  life." 

"If  that  is  your  judgment  in  regard  to  a  son," 
said  Madame  Clapart,  "I  see  that  a  father's  heart 
in  no  respect  resembles  that  of  a  mother.  My  poor 
Oscar  a  soldier.?" 

"Do  you  prefer  to  see  him  throw  himself  head 
foremost  into  the  Seine  after  having  committed  a 
disgraceful  deed  ?  He  can  no  longer  be  an  attorney ; 
do  you  find  him  wise  enough  to  make  him  a  bar- 
rister?— While  waiting  for  the  age  of  reason,  what 
will  become  of  him.?  He  may  turn  loafer;  at  least 
discipline  will  keep  him  to  you — " 

"Can  he  not  go  into  some  other  office.-'  His  uncle 
Cardot  will  certainly  pay  for  his  substitute,  will 
meet  the  charge  for  his  thesis." 

At  that  moment  the  rumbling  of  a  coach,  which 
contained  all  of  Oscar's  effects,  announced  the  un- 
fortunate young  man,  who  was  not  slow  to  show 
himself. 


A  START  IN   LIFE  23 1 

"Ah!  there  you  are,  Monsieur  Fine-Heart!" 
Clapart  exclaimed. 

Oscar  embraced  his  mother  and  held  out  to  Mon- 
sieur Moreau  a  hand  that  the  latter  refused  to  take. 
Oscar  answered  this  contempt  with  a  look  to  which 
the  reproach  gave  a  boldness  that  he  was  not  sup- 
posed to  possess. 

"Listen,  Monsieur  Clapart,"  said  the  youth  who 
had  become  a  man,  "you  worry  my  poor  mother 
devilishly,  and  it  is  your  right;  she  is,  to  her  own 
misfortune,  your  wife.  But  as  for  me,  that's  a 
different  matter !  You  will  see  me  reach  my 
majority  in  a  few  months.  Now,  you  have  no  right 
over  me,  even  while  I  am  a  minor.  Nothing  has 
ever  been  asked  of  you.  Thanks  to  this  gentleman 
here,  I  have  not  cost  you  two  farthings,  1  owe  you 
no  sort  of  gratitude;  so,  let  me  alone." 

Clapart,  on  hearing  this  apostrophe,  went  back 
to  his  easy  chair  in  the  chimney-corner.  The 
second  clerk's  reasoning  and  the  internal  wrath  of 
the  young  man  of  twenty,  who  had  just  received  a 
lesson  from  his  friend  Godeschal,  imposed  silence 
forever  on  the  sick  man's  imbecility. 

"An  impulse  to  which  you  would  have  given  way 
just  as  much  as  I  when  you  were  my  age,"  said 
Oscar  to  Moreau,  "has  led  me  to  make  a  mistake 
that  Desroches  regards  as  serious  and  that  is  only 
a  peccadillo.  I  think  far  more  of  having  taken 
Florentine  of  the  Gaite  for  a  marchioness,  and 
actresses  for  women  of  fashion,  than  of  having  lost 
fifteen  hundred  francs  during  a  debauch  in  which 


232  A  START  IN  LIFE 

everybody,  even  Godeschal,  was  drunk  as  a  lord. 
This  time,  at  least,  I  have  injured  only  myself. 
Here  I  stand  corrected.  If  you  want  to  assist  me, 
Monsieur  Moreau,  I  swear  to  you  that  the  six 
years  during  which  I  was  to  remain  as  clerk,  before 
being  able  to  negotiate  will  pass  without — " 

"Stop  there!"  said  Moreau;  'i  have  three  chil- 
dren, and  I  cannot  undertake  to  do  anything — " 

"Well,  well,"  said  Madame  Clapart  to  her  son, 
as  she  cast  a  look  of  reproach  on  Moreau;  "your 
uncle  Cardot — " 

"There  is  no  longer  an  uncle  Cardot,"  replied 
Oscar,  who  related  the  scene  of  the  Rue  de  Vendome. 

Madame  Clapart,  who  felt  her  limbs  give  way 
under  the  weight  of  her  body,  went  and  fell  into  a 
chair  in  the  dining-room  as  if  thunderstruck. 

"All  misfortunes  together!"  she  said  as  she 
fainted. 

Moreau  took  the  poor  mother  in  his  arms  and 
carried  her  to  the  bed  in  the  sleeping-room.  Oscar 
remained  motionless  and  as  if  thunderstruck. 

"You  have  nothing  left  to  you  but  to  become  a 
soldier,"  said  the  real  estate  broker  to  Oscar  when 
he  returned.  "This  simpleton  Clapart  does  not 
seem  to  me  to  have  three  months  to  live;  your 
mother  will  be  without  a  sou  of  income,  and  should 
I  not  reserve  for  her  the  little  money  that  I  can 
spare?  This  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  tell  you 
in  your  mother's  presence.  As  a  soldier  you  will 
have  bread  to  eat  and  you  will  reflect  on  life  as  it  is 
to  youths  without  fortune." 


A  START  IN   LIFE  233 

"I  may  draw  a  lucky  number,"  said  Oscar. 

"After  that?  Your  mother  has  well  performed 
her  duties  as  mother  to  you ;  she  has  given  you  an 
education,  she  had  put  you  on  the  right  road,  you 
have  just  left  it,  what  will  you  try?  Without 
money  one  can  do  nothing,  you  know  that  to-day; 
and  you  are  not  a  man  to  begin  a  career  by  taking 
off  your  coat  and  putting  on  the  vest  of  the  mechanic 
or  laborer.  Moreover,  your  mother  loves  you,  do 
you  want  to  kill  her  ?  She  would  die  on  seeing  you 
fall  so  low." 

Oscar  sat  down  and  no  longer  restrained  his  tears, 
which  flowed  in  abundance.  He  now  understood 
this  language,  so  completely  unintelligible  to  him 
at  the  time  of  his  first  error. 

"People  without  means  ought  to  be  perfect!"  said 
Moreau  without  suspecting  the  depth  of  this  cruel 
sentence. 

"My  fate  will  not  long  be  undecided,  I  draw  the 
lot  the  day  after  to-morrow,"  Oscar  replied.  "Be- 
tween now  and  then  I  will  resolve  on  my  future." 

Moreau,  distracted  in  spite  of  his  severe  bearing, 
left  the  household  of  the  Rue  de  la  Cerisaie  in 
despair.  Three  days  later  Oscar  drew  No.  27.  In 
the  interest  of  this  poor  youth  the  former  manager 
of  Presles  had  the  courage  to  go  and  ask  the  Comte 
de  Serizy  to  use  his  influence  to  get  Oscar  into  the 
cavalry.  Now,  the  minister  of  State's  son,  having 
been  classed  among  the  last  on  leaving  the  ^cole 
Polytechnique,  had  entered  through  favor  as  sub- 
lieutenant in  the  Due  de  Maufrigneuse's  cavalry 


234  A  START  IN  LIFE 

regiment  Oscar,  then,  in  his  misfortune,  had  the 
small  happiness  of  being,  on  the  Comte  de  Serizy's 
recommendation,  enrolled  in  that  fme  regiment  with 
the  promise  of  being  promoted  to  the  rank  of  quar- 
termaster at  the  end  of  a  year.  So  chance  put  the 
ex-clerk  under  the  orders  of  Monsieur  de  Serizy's 
son. 

After  having  languished  for  several  days,  so 
keenly  stricken  was  she  by  these  catastrophes, 
Madame  Clapart  let  herself  be  devoured  by  that 
remorse  that  seizes  upon  mothers,  whose  conduct 
was  formerly  marked  with  levity  and  who,  in  their 
old  age,  incline  to  repentance.  She  considered 
herself  as  an  accursed  creature.  She  attributed  the 
miseries  of  her  second  marriage  and  her  son's  mis- 
fortunes to  a  vengeance  from  God  that  made  her 
expiate  the  faults  and  pleasures  of  her  youth.  This 
opinion  was  soon  a  certainty  to  her.  The  poor 
mother  went  to  confession,  for  the  first  time  in 
forty  years,  to  the  curate  of  the  church  of  Saint- 
Paul,  the  Abbe  Gaudron,  who  imposed  on  her  the 
practice  of  devotion.  But  a  soul  so  ill-treated  and 
so  loving  as  that  of  Madame  Clapart  must  become 
simply  pious.  The  former  Aspasia  of  the  Directory 
wanted  to  expiate  her  sins  so  as  to  draw  down 
God's  blessings  on  the  head  of  her  poor  Oscar,  ere 
long,  then,  she  devoted  herself  to  the  exercises  and 
works  of  the  tenderest  piety.  She  believed  she 
had  attracted  the  attention  of  Heaven,  after  having 
succeeded  in  saving  Monsieur  Clapart,  who,  thanks 
to  her  care,  lived  to  torment  her;  but  she  wanted 


A  START  IN   LIFE  235 

to  see,  in  the  tyrannies  of  this  weak  mind,  trials 
inflicted  by  the  hand  that  caresses  while  chastising. 
Oscar,  moreover,  conducted  himself  so  perfectly 
that  in  1830  he  was  quartermaster-general  in  the 
Vicomte  de  Serizy's  company,  which  gave  him  the 
rank  of  sub-lieutenant  in  the  line,  the  Due  de  Mau- 
frigneuse's  regiment  belonging  to  the  royal  guard. 
Oscar  Husson  was  then  twenty-five.  As  the  royal 
guard  always  kept  garrison  at  Paris  or  within  a 
radius  of  thirty  leagues  around  the  capital,  he  came 
to  see  his  mother  from  time  to  time,  and  confided  to 
her  his  sorrows,  for  he  had  enough  mind  to  under- 
stand that  he  would  never  be  an  officer.  At  that 
period  the  grades  in  the  cavalry  were  nearly  all 
bestowed  on  the  younger  sons  of  noble  families, 
and  men  without  the  particle  in  their  name  ad- 
vanced with  difficulty.  Oscar's  whole  ambition 
was  to  leave  the  guard  and  be  appointed  sub-lieu- 
tenant in  a  cavalry  regiment  of  the  line.  In  the 
month  of  February,  1830,  Madame  Clapart  obtained, 
through  the  Abbe  Gaudron,  who  had  become  pastor 
of  the  church  of  Saint-Paul,  the  protection  of  Ma- 
dame la  Dauphine,  and  Oscar  was  made  a  sub- 
lieutenant 

Though  outwardly  the  ambitious  Oscar  seemed 
to  be  excessively  devoted  to  the  Bourbons,  in  the 
bottom  of  his  heart  the  former  clerk  was  a  Liberal. 
And  so,  in  the  battle  of  1830,  he  passed  over  to  the 
people.  This  defection,  whose  importance  was  due 
to  the  point  to  which  it  was  directed,  won  public 
attention  for  Oscar.     In  the  exaltation  of  triumph, 


236  A  START  IN   LIFE 

in  the  month  of  August,  Oscar,  made  lieutenant, 
had  the  Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  and  succeeded 
in  being  attached  as  aide-de-camp  to  Lafayette,  who 
secured  for  him  the  rank  of  captain  in  1832.  When 
they  deposed  the  admirer  of  the  best  of  republics 
from  his  command-in-chief  of  the  National  Guard 
of  the  kingdom,  Oscar  Husson,  whose  devotedness 
to  the  new  dynasty  bordered  on  fanaticism,  was 
placed  as  major  of  a  regiment  sent  to  Africa,  at  the 
time  of  the  first  expedition  undertaken  by  the 
Prince  Royal.  The  Vicomte  de  Serizy  was  lieuten- 
ant-colonel of  this  regiment.  In  the  action  of  the 
Macta,  in  which  it  was  found  necessary  to  leave 
the  field  to  the  Arabs,  Monsieur  de  Serizy  was  left 
behind,  wounded  under  his  dead  horse.  Oscar  then 
said  to  his  squadron : 

"Gentlemen,  it  is  like  going  to  death,  but  we 
should  not  abandon  our  colonel." 

He  was  the  first  to  dash  upon  the  Arabs,  and  his 
men,  electrified,  followed  him.  The  Arabs,  in  the 
first  astonishment  that  they  felt  at  this  offensive 
and  furious  return,  permitted  Oscar  to  get  posses- 
sion of  the  vicomte,  whom  he  took  on  his  horse  as 
he  fled  at  full  gallop,  though  in  this  operation,  under- 
taken in  the  midst  of  a  horrible  melee,  he  received 
two  yataghan  blows  on  the  left  arm.  Oscar's 
brave  conduct  was  rewarded  with  the  cross  of  officer 
of  the  Legion  of  Honor  and  his  promotion  to  the 
rank  of  lieutenant-colonel.  He  lavished  the  most 
affectionate  attention  on  the  Vicomte  de  Serizy, 
whom  his  mother  came  to  see,  and  who  died,  as  is 


A  START  IN  LIFE  237 

known,  at  Toulon,  from  the  effects  of  his  wounds. 
The  Comtesse  de  Serizy  had  not  separated  her  son 
from  him  who,  after  having  snatched  him  from  the 
Arabs,  still  took  care  of  him  so  devotedly.  Oscar 
was  so  severely  wounded  that  the  amputation  of  his 
left  arm  was  deemed  necessary  by  the  surgeon 
whom  the  countess  brought  to  her  son.  The  Comte 
de  Serizy  then  forgave  Oscar  for  his  blunders  of  the 
journey  to  Presles,  and  regarded  himself  even  as 
his  debtor  when  he  had  buried  his  son,  who  had 
become  an  only  son,  in  the  chapel  of  the  chateau  of 
Serizy. 

Long  after  the  incident  of  the  Macta,  an  elderly 
lady  dressed  in  black,  giving  her  arm  to  a  man  of 
thirty-four,  and  in  whom  the  passers-by  could  so 
much  the  more  easily  recognize  a  pensioned  officer, 
as  he  was  minus  one  arm  and  wore  the  rosette  of 
the  Legion  of  Honor  in  his  buttonhole,  took  her 
stand,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  in  the  month 
of  May,  under  the  gateway  of  the  Lion  d' Argent 
hotel,  in  the  Rue  du  Faubourg-Saint-Denis,  no  doubt 
waiting  for  the  departure  of  a  stage-coach.  Cer- 
tainly Pierrotin,  the  contractor  for  the  service  of 
the  Oise  valley,  and  who  served  it  by  passing 
through  Saint-Leu-Taverny  and  L'Isle-Adam  as  far 
as  Beaumont,  was  to  have  some  difficulty  in  dis- 
covering in  this  bronzed  officer  the  little  Oscar 
Husson  whom  he  had  formerly  carried  to  Presles. 
Madame  Clapart,  at  last  a  widow,  was  quite  as  un- 
recognizable as  her  son.  Clapart,  one  of  the 
victims  of  Fieschi's  outrage,  had  served  his  wife 


238  A  START  IN   LIFE 

more  by  his  death  than  by  his  whole  life.  Natu- 
rally the  unoccupied  and  strolling  Clapart  had 
camped  on  his  Boulevard  du  Temple  to  look  at  his 
legion  passing  in  review.  The  poor  devotee  had 
then  been  kept  going  on  fifteen  hundred  francs  pen- 
sion for  life,  by  virtue  of  the  law  passed  on  the 
occasion  in  behalf  of  the  victims  of  that  infernal 
machine. 

The  coach,  to  which  they  yoked  four  dapple-gray 
horses,  that  would  have  been  a  credit  to  the  Messa- 
geries  Royales,  was  divided  into  coupe,  interior, 
rotunda  and  imperial.  It  bore  a  perfect  resem- 
blance to  the  stage-coaches  called  gondolas  that  at 
present,  on  the  Versailles  road,  keep  up  competition 
with  the  two  railroads.  At  the  same  time  solid 
and  light,  well  painted  and  well  put  together,  lined 
with  fine  blue  cloth,  furnished  with  spring  blinds  in 
Moorish  designs  and  with  red  morocco  cushions,  the 
Oise  Swallow  held  nineteen  passengers.  Pierrotin, 
though  fifty-six  years  old,  had  changed  but  lit- 
tle. Always  clad  in  his  blouse,  under  which  he 
wore  a  black  coat,  he  smoked  his  short  pipe,  as  he 
watched  over  two  liveried  agents  who  were  loading 
many  packages  on  the  spacious  roof  of  his  coach. 

"Are  your  seats  secured?"  he  asked  of  Madame 
Clapart  and  Oscar  while  examining  them  like  a 
man  who  calls  up  resemblances  in  his  memory. 

"Yes,  two  interior  seats  in  the  name  of  Belle- 
jambe,  my  servant,"  Oscar  replied;  "he  was  to 
have  taken  them  when  setting  out  yesterday 
evening." 


A  START  IN   LIFE  239 

**Ah!  the  gentleman  is  the  new  collector  at  Beau- 
mont," said  Pierrotin,  "you  take  the  place  of 
Monsieur  Margueron's  nephew — " 

"Yes,"  said  Oscar,  pressing  his  mother's  arm  as 
she  was  going  to  speak. 

In  his  turn  the  officer  wanted  to  remain  unknown 
for  some  time. 

At  that  moment  Oscar  jumped  as  he  heard  the 
voice  of  Georges  Marest,  who  called  from  the  street: 

"Pierrotin,  have  you  one  more  place  left?" 

"It  seems  to  me  that  you  might  call  me  mo7isieiir 
without  tearing  your  throat!"  the  contractor  of  the 
Oise  valley  service  replied  sharply. 

Without  the  sound  of  his  voice  Oscar  would  not 
have  been  able  to  recognize  the  mystifier  who  had 
twice  already  been  so  fatal  to  him.  Georges, 
almost  bald,  had  now  left  only  three  or  four  tufts  of 
hair  over  his  ears,  and  carefully  scattered  so  as  to 
disguise  the  nudity  of  his  cranium  as  much  as  possi- 
ble. A  corpulency  far  from  becoming,  a  pyramidal 
stomach,  disfigured  the  ex-handsome  young  man's 
formerly  elegant  proportions.  Having  become  ignoble 
in  form  and  bearing,  Georges  clearly  gave  evidence 
of  disasters  in  love  and  a  life  of  continual  debauch, 
in  a  pimpled  complexion,  in  distended  and,  as  it 
were,  vinous  features.  The  eyes  had  lost  that 
brilliancy,  that  vivacity  of  youth  which  wise  or 
studious  habits  have  the  power  of  maintaining. 
Georges,  clad  like  a  man  careless  of  his  attire,  wore 
trousers  with  understraps,  but  shabby,  the  style  of 
which  required  varnished  boots.     His  thick-soled 


240  A  START  IN   LIFE 

boots,  badly  polished,  were  over  three-quarters  of  a 
year  old,  which,  in  Paris,  is  equivalent  to  three 
years  elsewhere.  A  faded  waistcoat,  a  cravat  pre- 
tentiously knotted,  though  it  was  an  old  silk  hand- 
kerchief, betrayed  the  sort  of  hidden  distress  to 
which  a  former  fop  may  find  himself  a  prey.  In 
fine,  Georges  appeared  at  that  hour  of  the  morning 
in  a  dress  coat,  instead  of  being  in  an  overcoat,  an 
indication  of  real  poverty!  That  coat,  which  must 
have  seen  more  than  one  ball,  had  passed,  like  its 
owner,  from  the  opulence  that  it  formerly  repre- 
sented to  day  labor.  The  seams  of  the  black  cloth 
showed  whitish  lines,  the  collar  was  greasy,  use 
had  badly  frayed  the  cuffs.  And  Georges  had  the 
boldness  to  attract  attention  by  yellow  gloves,  some- 
what dirty  indeed,  on  one  of  which  a  signet  ring 
was  outlined  in  black.  Around  the  cravat,  passed 
through  a  pretentious  gold  ring,  twined  a  silk  chain 
in  imitation  of  hair  and  to  which,  no  doubt,  a  watch 
was  attached.  His  hat,  though  rather  jauntily  put 
on,  revealed  more  clearly  than  all  these  symptoms, 
the  poverty  of  a  man  not  in  a  condition  to  give  six- 
teen francs  to  a  hatter  when  he  is  compelled  to  live 
from  hand  to  mouth.  Florentine's  former  would-be 
lover  swung  a  cane  with  a  silver-gilt  knob,  horribly 
dented.  The  blue  trousers,  the  waistcoat  of  Scotch 
material,  the  cravat  of  sky-blue  silk,  and  the  shirt 
of  calico  striped  with  red  bands,  expressed,  in  the 
midst  of  so  many  ruins,  such  a  desire  to  show  off 
that  this  contrast  formed  not  only  a  spectacle,  but 
also  a  lesson 


A  START  IN   LIFE  24 1 

"And  that's  Georges!"  Oscar  said  within  him- 
self, "A  man  whom  I  left  rich  to  the  amount  of 
thirty  thousand  francs  income." 

"Has  Monsieur  de  Pierrotin  another  seat  to  spare 
in  the  coupe?"  Georges  replied,  ironically. 

"No,  my  coupe  is  engaged  by  a  peer  of  France, 
Monsieur  Moreau's  son-in-law,  the  Baron  de  Ca- 
nalis,  his  wife,  and  his  pretty  mother-in-law. 
There  remains  only  one  interior  seat." 

"The  devil !  it  appears  that  under  all  govern- 
ments peers  of  France  travel  by  the  Pierrotin 
coaches.  I'll  take  the  interior  seat,"  replied 
Georges,  who  recalled  the  adventure  with  Monsieur 
de  Serizy. 

He  cast  an  examining  look  on  Oscar  and  the 
widow,  but  recognized  neither  the  son  nor  the 
mother,  Oscar's  complexion  had  been  bronzed  by 
the  African  sun;  his  mustaches  were  exceedingly 
heavy  and  his  whiskers  quite  ample;  his  hollowed 
countenance  and  his  pronounced  traits  agreed  with 
his  military  attitude.  The  officer's  rosette,  the 
absent  arm,  the  severe  plainness  of  costume,  all 
would  have  diverted  Georges'  recollection,  if  he 
had  had  any  recollection  of  his  former  victim.  As 
for  Madame  Clapart,  whom  Georges  had  scarcely 
seen  of  old,  ten  years  devoted  to  the  exercise  of  the 
strictest  piety  had  transformed  her.  No  one  would 
have  imagined  that  this  sort  of  gray  nun  concealed 
one  of  the  Aspasias  of  1797. 

An  enormous  old  man,  plainly  clad,  but  in  a  sub- 
stantial way,  and  in  whom  Oscar  recognized  old 
16 


i 


242  A  START  IN  LIFE 

Leger,  arrived  slowly  and  heavily;  he  familiarly 
saluted  Pierrotin,  who  seemed  to  treat  him  with  the 
respect  due,  in  all  countries,  to  millionaires. 

"Well!  that's  old  Leger,  ever  more  and  more 
ponderous,"  Georges  exclaimed. 

"To  whom  have  I  the  honor  of  speaking.?"  old 
Leger  asked  in  a  dry  tone. 

"What!  you  do  not  recognize  Colonel  Georges, 
the  friend  of  Ali  Pasha  ?  We  made  a  journey  to- 
gether one  day,  along  with  the  Comte  de  Serizy, 
who  kept  his  incognito." 

One  of  the  stupidities  most  habitual  to  people 
who  have  fallen  is  to  want  to  recognize  people  and 
to  want  to  be  recognized  by  them. 

"You  are  very  much  changed,"  replied  the  old 
real  estate  dealer,  who  had  become  a  millionaire 
twice  over. 

"Everything  changes,"  said  Georges.  "See 
whether  the  Lion  d' Argent  inn  and  Pierrotin's  coach 
resemble  what  they  were  fourteen  years  ago." 

"Pierrotin  has  now  all  to  himself  the  carrying 
trade  of  the  Oise  valley,  and  he  rolls  fine  coaches," 
Monsieur  Leger  replied.  "He  is  a  citizen  of  Beau- 
mont; he  keeps  a  hotel  there  at  which  the  coaches 
stop ;  he  has  a  wife  and  a  daughter  who  are  by  no 
means  unintelligent" 

An  old  man  of  about  seventy  came  down  from  the 
hotel  and  joined  the  passengers,  who  were  waiting 
for  the  time  to  come  to  get  into  the  coach. 

"Let  us  start,  then.  Papa  Reybert!"  said  Leger; 
"we  are  now  waiting  only  for  your  great  man." 


A  START   IN   LIFE  243 

"Here  he  comes,"  said  the  manager  for  the  Comte 
de  Serizy,  as  he  pointed  to  Joseph  Bridau. 

Neither  Georges  nor  Oscar  was  able  to  recognize 
the  illustrious  painter,  for  he  presented  that  wasted 
appearance  that  is  so  famous,  and  his  bearing  be- 
trayed the  assurance  given  by  success.  His  black 
overcoat  was  adorned  with  a  ribbon-  of  the  Legion 
of  Honor.  His  dress,  excessively  choice,  indicated 
an  invitation  to  some  country  feast. 

At  that  moment  a  clerk,  holding  a  sheet  of  paper 
in  his  hand,  came  out  of  an  office  built  in  the  former 
kitchen  of  the  Lion  d' Argent  and  took  his  stand  in 
front  of  the  empty  coupe. 

"Monsieur  and  Madame  de  Canalis,  three  seats!" 
he  called. 

He  passed  to  the  interior  and  called  in  succession: 

"Monsieur  Bellejambe,  two  seats.  Monsieur  de 
Reybert,  three  seats.  Monsieur — your  name?" 
he  said  to  Georges. 

"Georges  Marest,"  the  fallen  man  replied  in 
quite  a  low  voice. 

The  clerk  went  toward  the  rotunda,  in  front  of 
which  trooped  nurses,  country  folks  and  small  shop- 
keepers who  were  bidding  one  another  adieu;  after 
having  packed  in  the  six  passengers  the  clerk  called 
by  their  names  four  young  men  who  mounted  the 
bench  on  the  roof,  and  said:  "Wheel!"  as  the  only 
order  for  departure.  Pierrotin  sat  alongside  of  his 
driver,  a  young  man  in  a  blouse,  who,  on  his  part, 
called  out:  "Get  up!"  to  his  horses. 

The  coach,  drawn  by  the  four  horses  bought  at 


244  A  START  IN   LIFE 

Roye,  at  an  easy  trot  climbed  the  hill  of  the  Fau- 
bourg Saint-Denis ;  but  once  they  had  arrived  above 
Saint-Laurent,  it  sped  like  a  mail  coach  as  far  as 
Saint-Denis,  in  forty  minutes.  They  did  not  stop 
at  the  cheese-cakes  inn,  and  they  took  to  the  left  of 
Saint-Denis  the  Montmorency  valley  road. 

It  was  on  turning  there  that  Georges  broke  the 
silence  which  the  passengers  had  observed  until 
then,  while  they  kept  looking  at  one  another. 

"We  are  going  a  little  faster  than  we  did  fifteen 
years  ago,"  said  he,  as  he  pulled  out  a  silver  watch, 
"hey!  old  Leger.^"' 

"People  condescend  to  call  me  Monsieur  Leger/' 
the  millionaire  replied. 

"But  that's  our  joker  of  my  first  journey  to 
Presles,"  Joseph  Bridau  exclaimed.  "Well,  have 
you  made  any  fresh  campaigns  in  Asia,  Africa  or 
America.?"  the  great  painter  asked. 

"Zounds!  I  made  the  Revolution  of  July,  and  it 
was  quite  enough,  for  it  ruined  me — " 

"Ah!  you  made  the  July  Revolution,"  said  the 
painter.  "That  does  not  surprise  me,  for  I  never 
wanted  to  believe,  as  I  have  been  told,  that  it  made 
itself  all  alone." 

"How  people  meet  again,"  said  Monsieur  Leger, 
as  he  looked  at  Monsieur  de  Reybert.  "See,  Papa 
Reybert,  that's  the  notary's  clerk  to  whom  you  no 
doubt  owe  the  management  of  the  property  of  the 
house  of  Serizy — " 

"We  miss  the  presence  of  Mistigris,  now  illus- 
trious under  the  name  of  Leon  de  Lora,  and  the 


A  START  IN   LIFE  245 

little  young  man  who  was  so  stupid  as  to  iiave 
spoken  to  the  count  of  the  skin  diseases  that 
he  at  last  succeeded  in  healing,  and  of  his  wife 
whom  in  time  he  left  to  die  in  peace,"  said  Joseph 
Bridau. 

"The  count  also  is  missing,"  said  ReyberL 

"Oh!  I  believe,"  said  Joseph  Bridau,  in  a  mel- 
ancholy tone,  "that  the  last  journey  he  will  make 
will  be  that  from  Presles  to  L'Isle-Adam  to  attend 
the  ceremony  of  my  marriage." 

"He  still  goes  about  in  a  carriage  in  his  park," 
old  Reybert  replied. 

"Does  his  wife  come  often  to  see  him.''"  Leger 
asked. 

"Once  a  month,"  said  Reybert.  "She  is  ever 
fond  of  Paris;  last  September  she  married  her  niece, 
Mademoiselle  du  Rouvre,  on  whom  she  has  turned 
all  her  affections,  to  a  very  rich  young  Pole,  Comte 
Laginski — " 

"And  to  whom,"  Madame  Clapart  asked;  "will 
Monsieur  de  Serizy's  property  go.?" 

"To  his  wife,  who  will  bury  him,"  Georges 
replied.  "The  countess  is  yet  in  very  good  condi- 
tion for  a  woman  of  fifty-four,  she  is  always  elegant, 
and,  at  a  distance,  she  still  looks  young — " 

"She  will  so  look  to  you  for  a  long  time,"  then 
said  Leger,  who  seemed  to  want  to  be  avenged  on 
his  mystifier. 

"1  respect  her,"  Georges  replied  to  old  Leger. 
"But,  by  the  way,  what  has  become  of  that  manager 
who,  at  that  time,  was  dismissed .-"" 


246  A  START  IN  LIFE 

"Moreau  ?"  Leger  continued.  "Oh!  he  is  deputy 
for  the  Oise." 

"Ah!  he  is  the  famous  centrist  Moreau — of  the 
Oise? — "  said  Georges. 

"Yes,"  Leger  continued,  '* Monsieur  Moreau — of 
the  Oise. — He  worked  a  little  harder  than  you  in  the 
July  Revolution  and  he  succeeded  in  purchasing  the 
magnificent  Pointel  estate,  between  Presles  and 
Beaumont." 

"Oh!  alongside  of  that  of  which  he  was  manager, 
near  his  former  master,  that  was  rather  bad  taste," 
said  Georges. 

"Don't  talk  so  loud,"  said  Monsieur  de  Reybert; 
"for  Madame  Moreau  and  her  daughter,  the  Baronne 
de  Canalis,  as  well  as  her  son-in-law,  the  former 
minister,  are  in  the  coupe." 

"What  dowry,  then,  did  he  give  to  get  his 
daughter  married  to  our  great  orator?" 

"Only  something  like  two  millions,"  said  old 
Leger. 

"He  had  a  taste  for  the  millions,"  said  Georges 
smiling  and  in  a  low  voice;  "he  began  his  pile  at 
Presles — " 

"Say  not  another  word  about  Monsieur  Moreau!" 
Oscar  exclaimed  warmly.  "It  seems  to  me  that 
you  ought  to  have  learned  to  hold  your  tongue  in 
public  coaches." 

Joseph  Bridau  looked  at  the  one-armed  officer  for 
some  seconds,  and  exclaimed : 

"The  gentleman  is  not  an  ambassador,  but  his 
rosette  tells  us  plainly  enough  that  he  has  got  along, 


A  START  IN   LIFE  247 

and  nobly,  for  my  brother  and  General  Giroudeau 
have  often  referred  to  you  in  their  reports — " 

"Oscar  Husson!"  Georges  exclaimed.  "On  my 
word !  without  your  voice  I'd  not  have  recognized 

you." 

"Ah!  this  is  the  gentleman  who  so  courageously 
snatched  the  Vicomte  Jules  de  Serizy  from  the 
Arabs?"  Reybert  asked,  "and  whom  the  count  has 
had  appointed  collector  at  Beaumont  while  awaiting 
the  receivership  at  Pontoise?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Oscar. 

"Well,"  said  the  great  painter,  "you  will  give 
me  the  pleasure,  sir,  of  attending  my  marriage  at 
L'Isle-Adam." 

"Whom  are  you  marrying.^"  Oscar  asked. 

"Mademoiselle  Leger,"  the  painter  replied, 
"Monsieur  de  Reybert's  granddaughter.  It  is  a 
marriage  that  the  Comte  de  Serizy  deigned  to 
prepare  for  me;  I  owed  him  much  already  as 
an  artist,  and,  before  dying,  he  desired  to  take 
an  interest  in  my  fortune,  of  which  I  did  not 
dream — " 

"Then  old  Leger  married — ?"  said  Georges. 

"My  daughter,"  Monsieur  de  Reybert  replied, 
"and  without  any  dowry." 

"He  has  had  children?" 

"A  daughter.  That  is  quite  enough  for  a  man 
who  was  a  widower  and  childless,"  replied  old 
Leger.  "Just  like  Moreau,  my  partner,  1  will  have 
a  famous  man  for  a  son-in-law." 

"And,"  said  Georges,  as  he  assumed  an  almost 


248  A  START  IN   LIFE 

respectful  air  toward  old  Leger,  "you  still  live  at 
L'lsle-Adam?" 

"Yes,  I  have  bought  Cassan. " 

"Well,  I  am  happy  in  having  chosen  this  day  for 
doing  the  Oise  valley,"  said  Georges.  "You  can 
be  useful  to  me,  gentlemen." 

"In  what  respect.?"  said  Monsieur  Leger. 

"Ah!  in  this  way,"  said  Georges.  "I  am  an 
employee  of  the  Esperance,  a  company  that  has  just 
been  formed,  and  the  rules  of  which  are  about  to  be 
approved  by  a  royal  ordinance.  This  institution 
gives,  at  the  end  of  ten  years,  dowries  to  young 
girls,  life  annuities  to  the  aged;  it  pays  for  the  edu- 
cation of  children;  in  fine,  it  takes  charge  of  every- 
body's fortune — " 

"I  believe  it,"  said  old  Leger,  smiling.  "In  a 
word,  you  are  an  assurance  solicitor." 

"No,  sir;  1  am  general  inspector,  entrusted  with 
securing  correspondents  and  agents  of  the  company 
throughout  France,  and  work  until  the  agents  are 
chosen;  for  it  is  a  matter  as  delicate  as  it  is  difficult 
to  find  honest  agents — " 

"But  how,  then,  did  you  lose  your  thirty  thou- 
sand francs  income?"  said  Oscar  to  Georges. 

"As  you  lost  your  arm,"  dryly  replied  the  former 
notary's  clerk  to  the  former  attorney's  clerk. 

"Then  you  did  some  brilliant  deed  with  your 
fortune?"  said  Oscar,  in  a  tone  of  irony  mingled 
with  acrimony. 

"Zounds!  1  unfortunately  made  far  too  many — 
deeds;  I  have  some  to  sell." 


A  START  IN   LIFE  249 

They  had  arrived  at  Saint-Leu-Taverny,  where 
all  the  passengers  got  out  while  a  relay  was  being 
made.  Oscar  admired  the  vivacity  that  Pierrotin 
showed  as  he  unhooked  the  bar-traces  of  the  coach, 
while  his  driver  undid  the  reins  of  the  front  horses. 

"This  poor  Pierrotin,"  he  thought,  "has  re- 
mained, lil<e  me,  not  very  far  advanced  in  life. 
Georges  has  fallen  into  poverty.  All  the  others, 
thanks  to  speculation  and  talent,  have  made  for- 
tunes— Do  we  lunch  there,  Pierrotin?"  said  Oscar 
in  a  loud  voice,  as  he  slapped  the  carrier  on  the 
shoulder. 

"1  am  not  the  driver,"  said  Pierrotin. 

"What  are  you,  then?"  Colonel  Husson  asked. 

"The  contractor,"  Pierrotin  replied. 

"Come,  don't  be  angry  with  old  acquaintances," 
said  Oscar,  as  he  pointed  to  his  mother  and  without 
abandoning  his  patronizing  tone.  "Don't  you  re- 
cognize Madame  Clapart?" 

It  was  so  much  the  nobler  in  Oscar  to  present  his 
mother  to  Pierrotin  as  at  that  moment  Madame 
Moreau — of  the  Oise — having  got  out  of  the  coupe, 
was  looking  disdainfully  at  Oscar  and  his  mother 
on  hearing  that  name. 

"Faith,  madame,  1  would  never  have  recognized 
you,  nor  you,  sir.  It  appears  to  be  baking  hot  in 
Africa?" 

The  sort  of  pity  with  which  Pierrotin  inspired 
Oscar,  was  the  last  error  that  vanity  made  the  hero 
of  this  scene  commit,  and  he  was  again  punished 
for  it,  but  ratlier  mildly.     This  is  how: 


250  A  START  IN  LIFE 

Two  months  after  his  installation  at  Beaumont- 
sur-Oise  Oscar  paid  court  to  Mademoiselle  Georgette 
Pierrotin,  whose  dowry  was  a  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  francs,  and  he  married  the  daughter  of  the 
contractor  for  the  Oise  Messageries  toward  the  close 
of  the  winter  of  1838. 

The  adventure  of  the  journey  to  Presles  had  given 
discretion  to  Oscar,  the  evening  with  Florentine 
had  strengthened  his  probity,  the  hardships  of  the 
military  career  had  taught  him  social  hierarchy 
and  obedience  to  one's  lot.  Having  become  wise 
and  capable,  he  was  happy.  Before  his  death,  the 
Comte  de  Serizy  obtained  for  Oscar  the  Pontoise 
receivership.  The  protection  of  Monsieur  Moreau — 
of  the  Oise, — that  of  the  Comtesse  de  Serizy  and  of 
the  Baron  de  Canalis,  who,  sooner  or  later,  will 
again  become  a  minister,  assure  a  general  receiver- 
ship for  Monsieur  Husson,  in  whom  the  Camusot 
family  now  recognize  a  relative. 

Oscar  is  an  ordinary  man,  mild,  unpretentious, 
modest  and  always,  like  his  government,  observing 
a  golden  mean.  He  excites  neither  envy  nor  dis- 
dain. He  is,  in  fme,  a  modern  representative  of 
the  bourgeois. 

Paris,  February,  1842. 


MADAME    FIRMIANI 


(251) 


TO  MY  DEAR  ALEXANDRE  DE  BERNY 
His  Old  Friend 

De  Balzac 


(253) 


MADAME  FIRMIANI 


* 


Many  stories,  rich  in  situations  or  made  dramatic 
by  innumerable  throws  of  chance,  carry  with  them 
their  own  artifices  and  may  be  told  artistically  or 
simply  by  any  lips,  without  the  subject  thereby 
losing  the  slightest  of  its  beauties;  but  there  are 
some  adventures  of  human  experience  to  which  the 
accents  of  the  heart  alone  give  life,  there  are  certain 
anatomical  details,  so  to  say,  the  delicate  shades  of 
which  reappear  only  under  the  most  skilful  infu- 
sions of  thought;  then,  there  are  portraits  that  mean 
a  soul  and  are  nothing  without  the  finest  traits  of 
their  versatile  physiognomy;  in  fine,  we  meet  with 
those  things  that  we  know  not  how  to  say  or  do 
without  certain  indescribable  unknown  harmonies 
over  which  presides  a  day,  an  hour,  a  lucky  con- 
junction in  the  celestial  signs,  or  secret  moral  pre- 
disposition. The  telling  of  this  simple  story,  in 
which  we  would  like  to  be  able  to  interest  some  of 
those  naturally  melancholy  and  dreamy  souls  that 
feed  on  sweet  emotions,  exacts  mysterious  revela- 
tions like  these.  If  the  writer,  like  a  surgeon  at  the 
bedside  of  a  dying  friend,  has  been  deeply  impressed 
with  a  sort  of  respect  for  the  subject  that  he  was 

(255) 


256  MADAME  FIRMIANI  J 

handling,  why  should  not  the  reader  share  this  in-  m 

explicable  feeling?    Is  it  a  difficult  matter  to  become  " 

acquainted  with  that  vague  and  nervous  sorrow  that 
casts  gray  tints  around  us,  a  half-disease  whose 
mild  sufferings  are  sometimes  pleasing?  If,  per- 
chance, you  think  of  persons  dear  to  you  whom  you  ': 
have  lost;  if  you  are  alone,  be  it  at  night  or  evening 
twilight,  follow  up  the  reading  of  this  story;  other- 
wise you  should  throw  the  book  aside  at  once.  If 
you  have  not  already  buried  some  good  invalid  or 
penniless  aunt,  you  will  not  understand  these  pages. 
To  some  they  will  seem  impregnated  with  musk; 
to  others  they  will  appear  as  colorless,  as  virtuous 
as  those  of  Florian  can  be.  In  a  word,  the  reader 
must  have  known  the  luxury  of  tears,  have  felt  the 
mute  sorrow  of  a  memory  that  lightly  passes,  loaded 
with  a  cherished  shadow,  but  a  shadow  cast  from 
afar ;  he  ought  to  have  some  of  those  memories  that 
all  at  once  make  you  regret  what  the  earth  has 
swallowed  up  of  yours  and  smile  with  a  vanished 
happiness.  Now,  believe  me  that,  for  all  of  Eng- 
land's wealth,  the  author  would  not  extort  from 
poetry  a  single  one  of  her  lies  to  embellish  his  nar- 
rative. This  is  a  true  story,  on  which  you  can 
spend  the  treasures  of  your  sensibility,  if  you  have 
any. 

At  present  our  language  has  as  many  idioms  as 
there  are  varieties  of  men  in  the  great  French 
family.  And  so  it  is  really  curious  and  pleasant  to 
listen  to  the  different  meanings  or  versions  given  of 
one  and  the  same  thing  or  one  and  the  same  event 


MADAME  FIRMIANI  257 

by  each  of  the  genera  that  make  up  the  monography 
of  the  Parisian,  the  Parisian  being  taken  to  gener- 
alize the  thesis. 

Thus  you  would  have  asked  of  a  young  member 
belonging  to  the  genus  positive:  "Do  you  know 
Madame  Firmiani?"  and  this  man  would  have  de- 
scribed Madame  Firmiani  to  you  by  the  following 
inventory:  "A  large  mansion  situated  in  the  Rue 
du  Bac,  well-furnished  salons,  fme  paintings,  fully 
a  hundred  thousand  francs  income,  and  a  husband, 
formerly  receiver-general  in  the  department  of  Mon- 
tenotte. "  Having  said  so,  the  positive,  a  fat  and 
rotund  man,  nearly  always  clad  in  black,  makes  a 
slight  grimace  of  satisfaction,  raises  his  lower  lip, 
pursing  it  in  such  a  way  as  to  cover  the  upper,  and 
tosses  his  head  as  if  he  were  adding:  "They  are 
solid  folks  and  people  about  whom  there  is  nothing 
to  say."  Don't  ask  him  anything  more!  The  posi- 
tives explain  everything  by  figures,  by  incomes 
or  by  solid  wealth,  a  favorite  expression  of  theirs. 

Turn  to  the  right,  go  and  ask  that  other  person 
who  belongs  to  the  genus  loiterer,  and  repeat  your 
question  to  him:  "Madame  Firmiani?"  he  says. 
"Yes,  yes,  I  know  her  well;  I  go  to  her  evening 
parties.  She  receives  on  Wednesdays;  it  is  a  very 
honorable  house."  Already  is  Madame  Firmiani 
metamorphosed  into  a  house.  This  house  is  no 
longer  a  pile  of  stones  placed  one  above  the  other 
architecturally;  no,  this  word  is,  in  the  loiterer's 
language,  an  untranslatable  idiom.  Here  the  loiterer, 
a  dry  man,  with  a  pleasant  smile,  saying  pretty 
17 


258 


MADAME  FIRMIANI 


nothings,  always  possessed  of  more  acquired  than 
natural  wit,  leans  towards  your  ear  and  with  a 
knowing  air  says  to  you:  "I  have  never  seen  Mon- 
sieur Firmiani.  His  social  position  consists  of 
managing  property  in  Italy;  but  Madame  Firmiani 
is  a  Frenchwoman  and  spends  her  revenues  like  a 
Parisian.  Her  tea  is  excellent!  It  is  one  of  the 
houses,  now  so  rare,  where  one  amuses  one's  self,  and 
where  what  they  give  you  is  exquisite.  It  is  very 
difficult,  moreover,  to  gain  admission  into  her  house. 
The  best  society  also  is  found  in  her  salons !"  Then 
the  loiterer  comments  on  this  last  word  with  a  pinch 
of  snuff  taken  gravely;  he  supplies  his  nose  with 
slight  taps  and  seems  to  say:  "I  am  going  to  that 
house,  but  do  not  count  on  me  to  introduce  you 
there." 

To  the  loiterers,  Madame  Firmiani  keeps  a  sort  of 
inn  without  a  sign. 

"What  do  you  mean  to  do,  then,  when  you  go  to 
Madame  Firmiani's.?  For  it  is  as  tiresome  there  as 
at  court  What  is  the  use  of  having  sense  if  it  is 
not  to  shun  salons  in  which,  on  account  of  the  craze 
for  current  poetry,  people  read  the  most  trifling 
ballad  that  has  just  come  out?" 

You  have  questioned  one  of  your  friends  classed 
as  personal,  people  who  would  keep  the  universe 
under  lock  and  key  and  allow  nothing  to  be  done  in 
it  without  their  permission.  They  are  unhappy 
by  reason  of  all  the  happiness  of  others,  pardon  only 
vices,  falls  and  infirmities,  and  desire  only  proteges. 
Aristocrats  from  inclination,  they  turn  republicans 


MADA.WE  FIRMIANI  259 

out  of  Spite,  only  to  find  many  inferiors  among  their 
equals. 

"Oh!  Madame  Firmiani,  my  dear  boy,  is  one  of 
those  adorable  women  who  serve  as  an  excuse  to 
nature  for  all  the  ugly  ones  that  she  has  created  by 
mistake;  she  is  charming!  She  is  good!  1  would 
want  to  be  in  power,  to  become  a  king,  to  have 
millions  only  for — {Here  three  words  are  whispered). 
Do  you  want  me  to  introduce  you  to  her?" 

This  young  man  is  of  the  genus  lyceen,  known 
for  his  great  boldness  among  men  and  his  great 
timidity  behind  closed  doors. 

"Madame  Firmiani?"  exclaims  another,  as  he 
twirls  his  cane  on  itself,  "I  am  going  to  tell  you 
what  I  think  about  her:  she  is  a  woman  between 
thirty  and  thirty-five  years  old,  of  faded  counte- 
nance, fine  eyes,  flat  build,  broken  contralto  voice,  {_,-' 
elaborate  toilet,  a  little  rouge,  and  charming  man- 
ners; in  fine,  my  dear  boy,  the  remains  of  a  pretty 
woman — that,  nevertheless,  are  still  worth  the 
trouble  of  a  passion." 

This  sentence  is  due  to  a  member  of  the  genus 
fop  who  has  just  had  breakfast,  no  longer  weighs 
his  words  and  is  going  to  get  on  horseback.  At 
those  moments,  fops  are  pitiless. 

"There's  a  gallery  of  magnificent  paintings  in  her 
house,  go  and  see  them!"  another  replies  to  you. 
"There's  nothing  so  beautiful !" 

You  address  the  genus  amateur.  The  individual 
leaves  you  to  go  to  Perignon's  or  to  Tripet's.  To  him 
Madame  Firmiani  is  a  collection  of  painted  canvases. 


26o  MADAME  FIRMIANI 

A  Woman. — "Madame  Firmiani?  I  don't  want 
you  to  go  to  her  house." 

This  phrase  is  the  richest  of  translations.  Ma- 
dame Firmiani!  dangerous  woman!  a  siren!  she 
dresses  well,  she  has  taste,  she  gives  all  the  women 
insomnia.  The  interlocutor  belongs  to  the  genus 
busybody. 

A  Legation  Attache.  —  "Madame  Firmiani.? 
Isn't  she  from  Antwerp?  I  saw  that  very  pretty 
woman  ten  years  ago.     She  was  then  at  Rome." 

The  members  belonging  to  the  attache  class  have 
a  mania  for  using  expressions  a  la  Talleyrand,  their 
wit  is  often  so  fine  that  their  views  are  impercepti- 
ble; they  resemble  those  billiard  players  who  miss 
the  balls  with  wondrous  dexterity.  These  indi- 
viduals generally  talk  little;  but  when  they  do  talk 
they  are  concerned  only  with  Spain,  Vienna,  Italy 
or  St.  Petersburg.  Names  of  countries  are  to  them 
like  clock-work:  press  it,  and  the  machinery  will 
give  you  all  its  airs. 

"Does  not  this  Madame  de  Firmiani  see  much  of 
the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain?" 

This  is  said  by  a  person  who  wants  to  belong  to 
the  genus  eminent.  She  gives  the  de  to  everybody, 
to  the  elder  Monsieur  Dupin,  to  Monsieur  La  Fayette ; 
she  throws  it  helter-skelter,  she  dishonors  people  by 
it.  She  spends  her  life  keeping  disturbed  about  what 
is  well;  but,  as  her  punishment,  she  dwells  in  Le 
Marais,  and  her  husband  has  been  an  attorney,  but 
an  attorney  in  the  royal  court. 

"Madame  Firmiani,  sir?    I  don't  know  her. 


»> 


I' 


MADAME  FIRMIANI  261 

This  man  belongs  to  the  genus  duke.  He  acknowl- 
edges acquaintance  only  with  women  who  have 
been  presented.  Excuse  him,  he  was  made  a  duke 
by  Napoleon. 

"Madame  Firmiani?  Is  she  not  a  former  actress 
at  the  Italiens?" 

A  man  of  the  genus  simpleton.  Individuals  of 
this  class  want  to  have  an  answer  to  everything. 
They  calumniate  rather  than  keep  silent. 

Two  Elderly  Ladies — IVives  of  former  magis- 
trates. 

First. — (She  has  a  shell  bonnet,  her  countenance 
is  wrinkled,  her  nose  is  pointed,  she  has  a  prayer- 
book  in  her  hand,  her  voice  is  shrill.) — "What  is 
this  Madame  Firmiani  in  her  own  name?" 

Second. — (A  small  red  face  resembling  an  old 
red  apple,  a  mild  voice.) — "A  Cadignan,  my  dear, 
niece  of  old  Prince  de  Cadignan  and  cousin,  conse- 
quently, of  the  Due  de  Maufrigneuse. " 

Madame  Firmiani  is  a  Cadignan.  She  might  have 
neither  virtue,  nor  fortune,  nor  youth,  she  would 
still  be  a  Cadignan.  A  Cadignan  is  like  a  prejudice, 
always  rich  and  alive. 

An  Original. — "My  dear  sir,  I  have  never  seen 
socks  in  her  antechamber;  you  may  go  to  her  house 
without  compromising  yourself  and  play  there 
without  fear,  because,  if  there  are  cheats,  they  are 
people  of  quality;  consequently  they  never  quarrel 
there." 

AN  Old  Man  Belonging  to  the  Genus  Ob- 
server.— "You  will  go  to  Madame  Firmiani's,  you 


262  MADAME  FlRMIANl 

will  find,  my  dear  fellow,  a  pretty  woman  indolently 
seated  in  her  chimney-corner.  Scarcely  will  she 
get  up  from  her  armchair,  she  leaves  it  only  for 
women  or  ambassadors,  dukes,  people  of  importance. 
She  is  very  gracious,  she  is  charming,  she  converses 
well  and  wants  to  converse  on  everything.  There 
are  in  her  house  all  the  indications  of  passion,  but 
they  give  her  too  many  adorers  for  her  to  have  a 
favorite.  If  suspicions  hovered  only  over  two  or 
three  of  those  intimate  with  her,  we  would  know 
who  is  her  devoted  knight;  but  she  is  a  thoroughly 
mysterious  woman;  she  is  married,  and  never  have 
we  seen  her  husband;  Monsieur  Firmiani  is  an 
entirely  fanciful  personage,  he  is  like  that  third 
horse  that  one  always  pays  for  in  order  to  go  post- 
haste, but  never  sees ;  Madame,  if  you  are  to  believe 
artists,  is  the  first  contralto  in  Europe  and  has  not 
sung  three  times  since  she  has  been  in  Paris;  she 
receives  a  great  many  people  and  does  not  go  to  see 
anyone.*' 

The  observer  speaks  as  a  prophet.  His  words, 
his  anecdotes,  his  quotations  must  be  accepted  as 
truths,  under  the  penalty  of  passing  for  a  man  devoid 
of  education  and  expedients.  He  will  laughingly 
calumniate  you  in  a  score  of  salons,  where  he  is 
essential  as  a  first  piece  on  the  placards,  those  pieces 
so  often  played  for  the  pit  and  that  were  formerly 
successful.  The  observer  is  forty  years  old,  never 
dines  at  home,  declares  himself  far  from  dangerous 
with  women ;  he  is  powdered,  wears  a  maroon  coat, 
always  has  a  place  in  several  boxes  at  the  Bouffons; 


MADAME  FIRMIANI  263 

he  is  sometimes  confounded  with  the  parasites,  but 
he  has  filled  too  high  offices  to  be  suspected  of 
being  a  sponger  and  owns,  moreover,  an  estate  in  a 
department,  the  name  of  which  has  never  escaped 
him. 

"Madame  Firmiani?  But,  my  dear  sir,  she  was 
a  former  mistress  of  Murat's. " 

This  man  belongs  to  the  class  of  contradictors. 
People  of  this  sort  pick  out  the  errata  of  all  ac- 
counts, rectify  all  facts,  always  bet  a  hundred  to  one, 
are  sure  of  everything.  You  would  catch  them  the 
same  evening  in  the  very  act  of  ubiquity.  They 
will  tell  you  of  having  been  arrested  in  Paris  at  the 
time  of  the  Mallet  conspiracy,  forgetting  that,  half 
an  hour  before,  they  had  just  crossed  the  Beresina. 
Nearly  all  the  contradictors  are  chevaliers  of  the 
Legion  of  Honor,  talk  in  a  very  loud  voice,  have  a 
receding  forehead  and  play  for  high  stakes. 

"Madame  Firmiani,  a  hundred  thousand  francs 
income?  Are  you  mad!  Verily,  there  are  people 
who  give  you  a  hundred  thousand  francs  income 
with  the  liberality  of  authors,  to  whom  that  costs 
nothing  when  they  give  a  dowry  to  their  heroines. 
But  Madame  Firmiani  is  a  coquette  who  recently 
ruined  a  young  man  and  prevented  him  from  making 
a  very  fine  marriage.  If  she  were  not  pretty,  she 
would  be  penniless." 

Oh!  you  recognize  that  this  man  belongs  to  the 
genus  envious,  and  we  will  not  outline  his  slightest 
feature.  The  species  is  as  well  known  as  can  be 
that  of  the  domestic  felis.     How  are  we  to  explain 


264  MADAME  FIRMIANI 

the  perpetuity  of  envy.  A  vice  that  brings  no 
return ! 

Fashionable  people,  literary  people,  worthy  people, 
people  of  all  kinds  were  circulating,  in  the  month  of 
January,  1824,  so  many  different  opinions  about 
Madame  Firmiani  that  it  would  be  tiresome  to  note 
them  all  here.  We  have  only  wanted  to  state  that 
a  man  interested  in  knowing  her,  without  wishing 
or  being  able  to  go  to  her  house,  would  have  had 
reason  to  believe  her  to  be  either  a  widow  or  mar- 
ried, dull  or  witty,  virtuous  or  immoral,  rich  or  poor, 
sensitive  or  soulless,  pretty  or  ugly;  there  were,  in 
fine,  as  many  Madame  Firmianis  as  classes  of  so- 
ciety, as  factions  among  Catholics.  What  a  terrify- 
ing thought!  We  are  all  lii<e  lithographic  plates  of 
which  an  infinite  number  of  copies  are  taken  by 
slander.  These  proofs  resemble  the  model  or  differ 
from  it  by  shades  so  imperceptible  that  reputation 
depends,  save  the  calumnies  of  our  friends  and  the 
witticisms  of  a  newspaper,  on  the  balance  made  by 
each  between  truth,  which  goes  halting,  and  false- 
hood, to  which  the  Parisian  mind  gives  wings. 

Madame  Firmiani,  like  many  women  filled  with 
nobility  and  pride  who  make  a  sanctuary  for  them- 
selves of  their  heart  and  disdain  the  world,  might 
have  been  very  unfavorably  judged  by  Monsieur  de 
Bourbonne,  an  old  landlord  concerned  about  her 
during  the  winter  of  that  year.  Perchance  this 
landlord  belonged  to  the  class  of  provincial  planters, 
men  accustomed  to  take  account  of  everything  and 
to   drive   bargains   with   the   peasantry.      In   this 


MADAME  FIRMIANI  265 

business  a  man  becomes  clear-sighted,  in  spite  of 
himself,  as  a  soldier  in  the  long  run  contracts  courage 
from  routine.  This  inquiring  man,  who  came  from 
Touraine,  and  who  was  scarcely  satisfied  with  the 
Parisian  idioms,  was  a  very  honorable  gentleman 
who,  as  his  sole  and  only  heir,  rejoiced  in  a  nephew 
for  whom  he  planted  his  poplars.  This  ultra-natural 
friendship  gave  occasion  to  much  backbiting,  which 
the  members  belonging  to  the  various  species  of 
Tourainer  quite  wittily  formulated;  but  it  is  useless 
to  relate  them,  they  would  pale  before  the  backbit- 
ings  of  Paris.  When  a  man  can  think  of  his  heir 
without  displeasure  as  every  day  he  sees  fine  rows 
of  poplars  blooming,  affection  increases  every  time 
he  strikes  his  spade  at  the  foot  of  the  trees.  Though 
this  phenomenon  of  sensibility  be  far  from  common, 
it  is  still  met  with  in  Touraine. 

This  beloved  nephew,  whose  name  was  Octave 
de  Camps,  was  descended  from  the  famous  Abbe  de 
Camps,  so  well  known  to  bibliophiles,  or  to  savants, 
which  is  not  the  same  thing.  Provincial  folk  have 
the  bad  habit  of  branding,  with  a  sort  of  decent 
reprobation,  young  men  who  sell  their  inheritances. 
This  Gothic  prejudice  injures  stock-jobbing,  which 
so  far  the  Government  has  encouraged  from  neces- 
sity. Without  consulting  his  uncle,  Octave  had 
unexpectedly  disposed  of  an  estate  in  favor  of  the 
black  band.  The  chateau  of  Villaines  would  have 
been  demolished  but  for  the  proposals  that  the  old 
uncle  had  made  to  the  representatives  of  the  auction 
firm.     To  intensify  the  testator's  wrath,  a  friend  of 


266  MADAME  FIRMIANI 

Octave's,  a  distant  relative,  one  of  those  cousins  of 
small  means  and  great  shrewdness,  of  whom  prudent 
folk  of  their  province  are  forced  to  say :  "I  wouldn't 
want  to  have  a  lawsuit  with  him!"  had  come,  per- 
chance, to  Monsieur  de  Bourbonne's  and  had  in- 
formed him  of  his  nephew's  ruin.  Monsieur  Octave 
de  Camps,  after  having  squandered  his  fortune  on 
a  certain  Madame  Firmiani,  was  reduced  to  turning 
tutor  of  mathematics,  while  waiting  for  the  inher- 
itance from  his  uncle,  to  whom  he  dared  not  come 
and  acknowledge  his  faults.  This  remote  cousin,  a 
sort  of  Charles  Moor,  had  not  been  ashamed  to  bring 
this  fatal  news  to  the  old  rustic  just  as  he  was 
digesting,  in  front  of  his  spacious  fire-place,  a 
copious  provincial  dinner.  But  heirs  do  not  get 
around  an  uncle  as  easily  as  they  would  like. 
Thanks  to  this  stubbornness,  the  latter,  who  refused 
to  put  faith  in  the  remote  cousin,  came  off  victorious 
over  the  indigestion  caused  by  his  nephew's  biog- 
raphy. Certain  blows  strike  the  heart,  others  the 
head;  the  blow  aimed  by  the  remote  cousin  fell  on 
the  entrails  and  had  little  effect,  because  the  good 
man  had  an  excellent  stomach.  Like  a  true  disciple 
of  St.  Thomas,  Monsieur  deBourbonne  came  to  Paris, 
unknown  to  Octave,  and  wanted  to  get  information 
about  his  heir's  downfall.  The  old  gentleman,  who 
had  relations  with  the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain 
through  the  Listomeres,  the  Lenoncourts  and  the 
Vandenesses,  heard  so  much  backbiting,  truth  and 
falsehood  about  Madame  Firmiani,  that  he  resolved 
to  get  introduced  to  her  under  the  name  of  Monsieur 


MADAME  FIRMIANI  267 

de  Rouxellay,  the  name  of  his  estate.  The  discreet 
old  man  had  taken  care,  for  the  purpose  of  coming 
to  study  Octave's  supposed  mistress,  to  choose  an 
evening  on  which  he  knew  him  to  be  engaged  in 
finishing  a  work  for  which  a  high  price  had  been 
offered;  for  Madame  Firmiani's  friend  was  always 
received  at  her  house,  a  circumstance  that  no  one 
could  explain.  As  regards  Octave's  ruin,  it  was 
unfortunately  not  a  fable. 

Monsieur  de  Rouxellay  bore  no  resemblance  to  an 
uncle  from  the  Gymnase.  A  former  musketeer,  a 
man  of  exalted  company  who  had  formerly  had  love 
tilts,  he  knew  how  to  present  himself  courteously, 
remembered  the  polite  manners  of  the  olden  time, 
spoke  gracious  words  and  understood  nearly  all  of 
the  Charter.  Though  he  loved  the  Bourbons  with 
noble  frankness,  though  he  believed  in  God  as  gen- 
tlemen believe  in  Him,  and  though  he  read  only 
La  Quotidienne,  he  was  not  as  ridiculous  as  the  Lib- 
erals of  his  department  wanted  him  to  be.  He  could 
keep  his  place  with  court  folks,  provided  they  did 
not  speak  to  him  of  Mosl,  or  of  the  drama,  or  of 
romance,  or  of  local  color,  or  of  railroads.  He  had 
stuck  to  Monsieur  de  Voltaire,  to  the  Comte  de 
Buffon,  to  Peyronnet  and  to  the  Chevalier  Cluck, 
the  musician  of  the  queen's  corner. 

"Madame,"  he  said  to  the  Marquise  de  Listom^re, 
to  whom  he  offered  his  arm  on  entering  Madame 
Firmiani's,  "if  this  woman  is  my  nephew's  mis- 
tress, I  will  complain  of  it.  How  can  she  live  in 
the  midst  of  luxury,  while  knowing  that  he  is  in  a 


268  MADAME  FIRMIANI 

garret?  She  has  no  soul,  then?  Octave  is  a  fool 
for  having  invested  the  price  of  the  Villaines  estate 
in  the  heart  of  one — " 

Monsieur  de  Bourbonne  belonged  to  the  genus 
fossil,  and  knew  only  the  language  of  the  olden 
time. 

"But  suppose  he  had  lost  it  gambling?" 

"Well!  madame,  at  least  he  would  have  had  the 
pleasure  of  gambling." 

"You  think,  then,  that  he  has  had  no  pleasure? 
Come  and  see  Madame  Firmiani. " 

The  old  uncle's  finest  memories  paled  at  the  sight 
of  his  nephew's  supposed  mistress.  His  wrath  van- 
ished in  a  gracious  phrase  that  was  extorted  from 
him  on  seeing  Madame  Firmiani.  By  one  of  those 
chances  that  happen  only  to  pretty  women,  it  was  a 
moment  when  all  the  phases  of  her  beauty  shone 
with  a  special  splendor,  due,  perhaps,  to  the  light  of 
the  candles,  to  an  admirably  simple  toilet,  to  an  in- 
describable reflection  of  the  elegance  amid  which 
she  lived.  One  must  have  studied  the  petty  revo- 
lutions of  an  evening  in  a  Paris  salon  to  appreciate 
the  imperceptible  shades  that  can  color  a  woman's 
countenance  and  change  it.  It  is  a  moment  when, 
satisfied  with  her  decking,  or  finding  herself  witty, 
happy  at  being  admired,  on  seeing  herself  the  queen 
of  a  salon  full  of  remarkable  men  who  smile  on  her, 
a  Parisian  woman  is  conscious  of  her  beauty,  of  her 
grace;  she  is  then  embellished  with  all  the  looks 
that  she  receives  and  that  animate  her,  but  whose 
mute  homages  are  carried  by  shrewd  looks  to  the 


MADAME  FIRMIANI  269 

well-beloved.  At  that  moment  a  woman  is,  as  it 
were,  invested  with  a  supernatural  power  and  be- 
comes a  magician,  a  coquette  without  her  knowing 
it;  she  involuntarily  inspires  the  love  that  turns 
her  head  in  secret,  she  has  smiles  and  looks  that 
fascinate.  If  this  condition,  which  comes  from  the 
soul,  makes  even  the  homely  attractive,  with  what 
splendor  does  it  not  clothe  a  woman  who  is  naturally 
elegant,  has  traits  of  distinction,  isfair  and  fresh,  has 
bright  eyes,  and  especially  is  dressed  with  a  taste 
admired  by  artists  and  even  her  most  cruel  rivals! 

Have  you  been  made  happy  by  meeting  some 
person  whose  harmonious  voice  impressed  upon  her 
speech  a  charm  equally  displayed  by  her  manner- 
isms, who  knows  when  to  speak  and  when  to  be 
silent,  who  concerns  herself  about  you  with  delicacy, 
whose  words  are  happily  chosen,  or  whose  language 
is  pure?  Her  raillery  endears  and  her  criticism 
does  not  offend;  she  does  not  discuss  any  more  than 
she  disputes,  but  she  is  pleased  to  direct  a  discus- 
sion, and  stops  it  at  the  right  time.  Her  bearing  is 
affable  and  smiling,  there  is  nothing  forced  in  her 
politeness,  her  attentions  are  not  servile;  respect 
in  her  is  scarcely  marked,  it  is  reduced  to  a  soft 
shadow;  she  never  tires  you,  and  leaves  you  satis- 
fied with  her  and  with  yourself.  You  find  her  good 
graces  impressed  on  the  things  by  which  she  is 
surrounded.  In  her  house  everything  flatters  the 
eye,  and  there  you  breathe,  as  it  were,  the  air  of  a 
fatherland.  That  woman  is  natural.  In  her  never 
is  there  effort,  there  is  nothing  about  her  that  is  put 


2/0  MADAME  FIRMIANI 

on,  her  feelings  are  simply  expressed,  because  they 
are  true.  Being  franl<  she  knows  how  to  avoid 
offense;  she  takes  men  as  God  has  made  them,  re- 
gretting that  there  are  vicious  people,  overlooking 
shortcomings  and  follies,  taking  account  of  all  ages, 
and  being  irritated  at  nothing,  because  she  has  tact 
to  foresee  everything.  At  the  same  time  tender 
and  gay,  she  obliges  before  consoling.  You  love 
her  so  much  that,  if  this  angel  makes  a  mistake,  you 
feel  yourself  ready  to  justify  her.  You  then  know 
Madame  Firmiani. 

When  old  Bourbonne  had  chatted  for  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  with  this  woman,  seated  beside  her,  his 
nephew  was  absolved.  He  felt  that,  whether  false 
or  true.  Octave's  intrigues  with  Madame  Firmiani 
no  doubt  concealed  some  mystery.  Returning  to 
the  illusions  that  gild  the  early  days  of  our  youth 
and  judging  of  Madame  Firmiani's  heart  by  her 
beauty,  the  old  gentleman  thought  that  a  woman  so 
penetrated  by  her  dignity  as  she  appeared  to  be, 
was  incapable  of  a  bad  act.  Her  black  eyes  bespoke 
so  much  internal  calm,  the  lines  of  her  face  were  so 
noble,  the  outlines  so  pure,  and  the  passion  of 
which  people  accused  her  seemed  to  weigh  so  lightly 
on  her  heart,  that  the  old  man  said  to  himself,  as  he 
admired  all  the  promises  made  to  love  and  virtue 
by  this  adorable  countenance: 

"My  nephew  may  have  been  guilty  of  some 
folly." 

Madame  Firmiani  confessed  to  being  twenty-five 
years  old.     But  those  of  the  genus  positive  proved 


MADAME  FIRMIANI  2/1 

that,  having  married  in  1813,  at  the  age  of  sixteen, 
she  must  have  been  at  least  twenty-eight  in  1825. 
Yet  the  same  people  asserted  also,  that  at  no  period 
of  her  life  had  she  been  so  desirable  or  so  thor- 
oughly a  woman.  She  was  childless,  and  never 
had  had  any  children;  the  problematical  Firmiani, 
a  very  respectable  man  of  forty  in  181 3,  had,  it  was 
said,  been  able  to  give  her  only  his  name  and  his 
fortune.  Madame  Firmiani  was,  then,  approaching 
the  age  when  the  Parisian  woman  best  understands 
a  passion  and  desires  it  perhaps  innocently  in  her  for- 
lorn hours;  she  had  acquired  all  that  the  world  sells, 
all  that  it  lends,  all  that  it  gives;  legation  attaches 
pretended  that  she  was  ignorant  of  nothing,  contra- 
dictors that  she  could  still  learn  many  things,  ob- 
servers found  her  hands  very  white,  her  foot  pretty, 
her  walk  a  little  too  undulating ;  but  individuals  of  all 
the  genera  envied  or  disputed  Octave's  happiness, 
while  agreeing  that  she  was  the  most  aristocratically 
beautiful  woman  in  all  Paris.  Still  young,  rich,  a 
perfect  musician,  witty,  delicate,  received,  in 
memory  of  the  Cadignans,  to  whom  she  belonged 
through  her  mother,  at  the  Princesse  de  Blamont- 
Chauvry's,  the  oracle  of  the  noble  faubourg,  loved 
by  her  rivals,  her  cousin  the  Duchesse  de  Mau- 
frigneuse,  the  Marquise  d'Espard  and  Madame  de 
Macumer,  she  flattered  all  the  vanities  that  feed  or 
that  excite  love.  And  so  she  was  desired  by  too 
many  people  not  to  be  a  victim  of  the  elegant  back- 
biting of  Paris  and  of  the  ravenous  calumnies  that 
are  so   wittily  retailed  behind  the  fan  or  in  the 


272  MADAME  FIRMIANI 

asides.  The  remarks  with  which  this  history  be- 
gins were  necessary,  then,  so  as  to  put  the  true 
Firmiani  in  contrast  with  the  Firmiani  of  the 
world.  If  some  women  pardoned  her  her  happiness, 
others  did  not  forgive  her  for  her  propriety;  now, 
nothing  is  so  terrible,  especially  in  Paris,  as 
groundless  suspicions — it  is  impossible  to  destroy 
them.  This  sketch  of  a  figure,  admirable  for  its 
naturalness,  will  give  but  a  faint  picture;  the  pencil 
of  Ingres  alone  could  represent  the  proud  brow,  the 
profusion  of  hair,  the  majestic  look,  all  the  thoughts 
that  were  betrayed  by  the  special  colors  of  the  com- 
plexion. There  was  everything  in  that  woman; 
poets  might  see  in  her  at  one  and  the  same  time 
Jeanne  Dare  or  Agnes  Sorel ;  but  there  was  in  her 
also  the  unknown  woman,  the  soul  hidden  under 
this  deceiving  envelope,  the  soul  of  Eve,  the  riches 
of  evil  and  the  treasures  of  good,  error  and  resigna- 
tion, crime  and  devotedness.  Dona  Julia  and  Haidee 
of  Lord  Byron's  Don  Juan. 

The  former  musketeer  quite  impertinently  re- 
mained the  last  in  Madame  Firmiani's  parlor;  she 
found  him  peacefully  seated  in  an  armchair,  and 
posing  in  front  of  her  with  the  importunity  of  a  fly 
that  one  must  kill  to  get  rid  of  it.  The  clock 
marked  two  in  the  morning. 

"Madame,"  said  the  old  gentlman,  just  as  Madame 
Firmiani  arose,  hoping  to  make  her  guest  under- 
stand that  it  was  her  good  pleasure  that  he  should 
leave;  "madame,  I  am  Monsieur  Octave  de  Camps* 
uncle." 


MADAME  FIRMIANI  273 

Madame  Firmiani  at  once  sat  down  again  and 
showed  her  emotion.  In  spite  of  his  keenness,  the 
poplar  planter  did  not  observe  whether  she  grew 
pale  and  blushed  from  shame  or  from  pleasure. 
There  are  pleasures  that  do  not  go  without  a  little 
shy  modesty,  delightful  emotions  that  the  chastest 
heart  would  always  veil.  The  more  tender  a 
woman  is,  the  more  she  wishes  to  conceal  the  de- 
lights of  her  soul.  Many  women,  incomprehensible 
in  their  divine  caprices,  often  wish  to  hear  every- 
body pronounce  a  name  that  sometimes  they  would 
desire  to  bury  in  their  hearts.  Old  Bourbonne 
did  not  quite  thus  interpret  Madame  Firmiani's 
trouble;  but  excuse  him,  the  countryman  was  dis- 
trustful. 

"Well,  sir.?"  said  Madame  Firmiani  to  him  as 
she  cast  on  him  one  of  those  lucid  and  clear  looks  in 
which  we  men  can  never  see  anything,  because 
they  interrogate  us  a  little  too  much. 

"Well,  madame,"  the  gentleman  continued,  "do 
you  know  what  people  have  told  me,  yes,  me,  away 
out  in  my  province?  That  my  nephew  has  ruined 
himself  on  your  account,  and  the  wretch  is  in  a 
garret,  while  you  live  here  in  gold  and  silk.  You 
will  pardon  me  for  my  rustic  frankness,  for  it  is 
perhaps  very  useful  for  you  to  be  informed  of  the 
calumnies — " 

"Stop,  sir,"  said  Madame  Firmiani,  interrupting 
the  gentleman  with  an  imperative  gesture,  "I  know 
all  that.  You  are  too  polite  to  continue  conversing 
on  this  subject  after  I  shall  have  entreated  you  to 

iS 


274  MADAME  FIRMIANI 

abandon  it.  You  are  too  gallant — in  the  old  ac- 
ceptation of  the  word,"  she  added,  as  she  gave  a 
slight  tone  of  irony  to  her  words — "not  to  recognize 
that  you  have  no  right  to  question  me.  In  fine,  it 
is  ridiculous  for  me  to  justify  myself.  1  hope  that 
you  will  have  a  good  enough  opinion  of  my  char- 
acter to  believe  in  the  profound  contempt  with 
which  money  inspires  me,  though  without  means  of 
any  kind  I  married  a  man  who  was  immensely  rich. 
1  do  not  know  whether  your  nephew  is  rich  or  poor. 
If  I  have  received  him,  if  I  do  receive  him,  I  regard 
him  as  worthy  of  being  among  and  with  my  friends. 
All  my  friends,  sir,  respect  one  another;  they  know 
that  I  am  not  so  philosophical  as  to  see  people  when  1 
do  not  esteem  them ;  perhaps  I  am  lacking  in  charity ; 
but  my  guardian  angel  has  kept  me  until  now  in  a 
state  of  profound  aversion  to  tattling  and  improbity. " 

Though  there  was  a  slight  quiver  in  the  tone  of 
her  voice  during  the  opening  phrases  of  this  reply, 
its  closing  words  were  spoken  by  Madame  Firmiani 
with  the  coolness  of  Celimene  taunting  the  Misan- 
thrope. 

"Madame,"  the  count  continued,  in  a  voice  filled 
with  emotion,  "1  am  an  old  man,  I  am  almost 
Octave's  father,  1  ask  of  you  in  advance,  then,  the 
humblest  of  pardons  for  the  only  question  that  I  am 
going  to  be  bold  enough  to  put  to  you,  and  I  give 
you  my  word  as  an  honorable  gentleman  that  your 
answer  will  lie  there,"  he  said,  as  he  put  his  hand 
on  his  heart  with  a  truly  religious  gesture.  "Is 
scandal  correct;  do  you  love  Octave.?" 


MADAME  FIRMIANI  275 

"Sir,"  she  said,  "any  one  else  I  would  answer 
only  with  a  look;  but  you,  and  because  you  are 
almost  Monsieur  de  Camps'  father,  I  will  ask  what 
you  would  think  of  a  woman  if,  to  your  question, 
she  said:  Yes.  To  acknowledge  one's  love  to  him 
whom  we  love,  when  he  loves  us — there — well; 
when  we  are  certain  of  being  always  loved,  believe 
me,  sir,  it  is  an  effort  to  us  and  to  him  a  recom- 
pense; but  to  any  one  else! — " 

Madame  Firmiani  did  not  finish,  she  arose,  saluted 
the  good  man  and  disappeared  in  her  rooms,  all  the 
doors  of  which,  successively  opened  and  shut,  spoke 
a  language  in  the  poplar  planter's  ears. 

"Ah!  bless  me!"  said  the  old  man  to  himself, 
"what  a  woman !  She  is  either  a  downright  gossip- 
ing hypocrite  or  an  angel." 

And  he  reached  his  hired  carriage,  the  horses  of 
which  were  beating  time  with  their  hoofs  on  the 
pavement  of  the  silent  court.  The  coachman  was 
asleep,  after  having  a  hundred  times  cursed  his 
customer. 

Next  morning,  about  eight  o'clock,  the  old  gentle- 
man ascended  the  stairway  of  a  house  situated  in 
the  Rue  de  I'Observance,  where  Octave  de  Camps 
dwelt  If  there  was  a  surprised  man  in  the  world, 
it  certainly  was  the  young  professor  when  he  saw 
his  uncle.  The  key  was  in  the  door.  Octave's  lamp 
was  still  burning,  he  had  been  up  all  night. 

"Monsieur  Funny  Man,"  said  Monsieur  de  Bour- 
bonne  as  he  sat  down  in  an  armchair,  "since  when 
have  people  been  laughing — chaste  style — at  uncles 


276  MADAME  FIRMIANI 

that  have  an  income  of  twenty-six  thousand  francs 
from  good  estates  in  Touraine,  when  one  is  their 
sole  heir?  Do  you  know  that  in  former  days  we 
respected  such  relations?  Let  us  see;  have  you 
any  reproaches  to  make  to  me  ?  Have  I  played  my 
part  of  uncle  badly?  Have  I  asked  you  for  respect? 
Have  I  refused  you  money  ?  Have  I  shut  the  door 
in  your  face,  pretending  that  you  came  to  see  how  I 
was  behaving  myself?  Have  you  not  the  most  ac- 
commodating uncle,  the  least  domineering  that  there 
is  in  France?  I  do  not  say  in  Europe,  that  would 
be  too  pretentious.  You  write  to  me  or  you  do  not 
write  to  me;  I  live  on  sworn  affection,  and  take 
care  of  the  prettiest  estate  in  the  country  for  you,  a 
property  that  is  the  envy  of  the  whole  department; 
but  I  want  to  leave  it  to  you,  however,  as  late  as 
possible.  Is  not  this  fancy  extremely  excusable? 
And  the  gentleman  sells  his  property,  lodges  like  a 
lackey,  and  no  longer  has  either  friends  or  retinue!" 

"Uncle—" 

"It  is  not  a  question  of  uncle,  but  of  nephew.  I 
am  entitled  to  your  confidence ;  so  confess  at  once, 
it  is  easier.  I  know  that  from  experience.  Have 
you  gambled ;  have  you  lost  at  the  Bourse  ?  If  so, 
say  to  me:  'Uncle,  I  am  a  wretch!'  and  I  will  em- 
brace you.  But  if  you  tell  me  a  lie  bigger  than 
those  I  was  guilty  of  at  your  age,  I  will  sell  my 
property,  I  will  turn  it  into  a  life  annuity  and  will 
resume  the  bad  habits  of  my  youth,  if  it  be  still 
possible." 

"Uncle—" 


MADAME  FIRMIANI  277 

**I  saw  your  Madame  Firmiani  yesterday,"  said 
the  uncle,  as  he  kissed  the  ends  of  his  fingers  which 
he  gathered  into  a  bunch.  "She  is  charming,"  he 
added.  "You  enjoy  the  approbation  and  the  privi- 
lege of  the  king,  and  the  consent  of  your  uncle,  if 
that  can  give  you  any  pleasure.  As  for  the  sanc- 
tion of  the  Church,  it  is  useless,  I  believe,  the  sacra- 
ments are  no  doubt  too  dear !  Come,  speak,  is  it 
for  her  you  have  ruined  yourself?" 

"Yes,  uncle." 

"Ah!  the  jade;  I  would  have  bet  on  it.  In  my 
time  women  of  court  went  more  shrewdly  about 
ruining  a  man  than  can  your  courtesans  of  to-day. 
In  her  I  recognized  the  past  age  rejuvenated." 

"Uncle,"  Octave  continued,  in  a  tone  at  the 
same  time  quite  sad  and  mild,  "you  are  mistaken. 
Madame  Firmiani  merits  your  esteem  and  all  the 
adorations  of  her  admirers." 

"Poor  youth,  then,  will  always  be  the  same," 
said  Monsieur  de  Bourbonne.  "Come,  go  your 
way,  weary  me  with  old  stories.  Yet  you  ought  to 
know  that  I  am  not  of  yesterday  in  gallantry." 

"My  good  uncle,  here  is  a  letter  that  will  tell  you 
all,"  Octave  replied,  as  he  drew  out  an  elegant 
portfolio,  no  doubt  given  by  her;  "when  you  will 
have  read  it,  I  will  complete  the  information  I  have 
to  give  you,  and  you  will  know  a  Madame  Firmiani 
unknown  to  the  world." 

"1  have  not  my  spectacles,"  the  uncle  said; 
"read  it  for  me." 

Octave  began  thus:  "My  beloved  husband — " 


278  MADAME  FIRMIANI 

"You  are,  then,  closely  connected  with  that 
woman?" 

"Yes,  certainly,  uncle." 

"And  you  are  not  compromised?" 

"Compromised!"  Octave  repeated,  quite  aston- 
ished.    "We  were  married  at  Gretna  Green." 

"Well,  well,"  Monsieur  de  Bourbonne  continued; 
"why,  then,  do  you  eat  forty-sou  dinners?" 

"Let  me  continue." 

"That  is  only  fair,  I  am  listening." 

Octave  continued  the  letter,  and  did  not  read  cer- 
tain portions  of  it  without  deep  emotion: 

"My  beloved  husband,  you  have  asked  me  the  reason  for 
my  sadness  ;  has  it  passed,  then,  from  my  soul  to  my  counte- 
nance, or  have  you  only  guessed  it?  And  why  should  it  not 
be  thus?  We  are  so  closely  united  in  heart !  Moreover,  I  do 
not  know  how  to  lie,  and  indeed,  is  that  a  misfortune?  One 
of  the  conditions  of  the  woman  who  is  loved  is  to  be  ever 
caressing  and  gay.  Perhaps  I  should  deceive  you ;  but  I 
would  not  desire  to  do  so,  although  it  were  a  question  of  in- 
creasing or  preserving  the  happiness  that  you  give  me,  that 
you  lavish  on  me,  with  which  you  overwhelm  me.  Oh  !  my 
dear,  how  much  gratitude  my  love  implies !  And  so  1  want 
to  love  you  always,  unboundedly.  Yes,  1  want  always  to  be 
proud  of  you.  Our  glory,  that  is,  our  own,  is  all  in  him 
whom  we  love.  Esteem,  consideration,  honor— does  not  he 
enjoy  all  of  these  who  has  taken  all?  Well,  my  angel  has 
failed.  Yes,  my  dear,  your  last  confidence  has  dulled  my 
past  felicity.  Since  that  moment  I  find  myself  humiliated  in 
you  ;  in  you  whom  I  regarded  as  the  purest  of  men,  as  you 
are  the  most  loving  and  most  tender  of  them.  One  must 
have  a  great  deal  of  confidence  in  your  heart,  which  is  still 
that  of  a  child,  to  make  to  you  an  avowal  that  is  horribly 
expensive  to  me.     You  know,  poor  angel,  how  your  father 


MADAME  FIRMIANI  279 

stole  his  means,  and  you  keep  it !  And  you  told  me  of  that 
proctor's  high-handed  doings  in  a  room  full  of  mute  witnesses 
of  our  love,  and  you  are  a  gentleman,  and  you  believe  your- 
self noble,  and  you  have  me,  and  you  are  twenty-two  !  What 
monstrosities !  I  have  sought  excuses  for  you,  1  have  attrib- 
uted your  apathy  to  your  giddy  youth.  I  know  that  there 
is  a  great  deal  of  the  child  in  you.  Perhaps  you  have  not  yet 
thought  very  seriously  of  what  fortune  or  probity  is.  Oh  ! 
how  uneasy  your  laugh  has  made  me  feel  !  Think,  then, 
that  there  is  a  ruined  family,  ever  in  tears,  that  there  are 
young  persons  who  perhaps  curse  you  every  day,  an  old  man 
who  says  to  himself  each  evening  :  '  I  would  not  be  in  want 
of  bread  if  Monsieur  de  Camps'  father  had  not  been  a  dis- 
honest man.'  " 

"What!"  Monsieur  de  Bourbonne  exclaimed,  in- 
terrupting, "you  were  so  simple  as  to  tell  that 
woman  of  your  father's  affair  with  the  Bourgneufs? 
Women  know  much  more  about  eating  up  a  fortune 
than  making  one." 

"They  have  an  understanding  of  honesty.  But 
let  me  continue,  uncle: 

"  Octave,  no  power  in  the  world  has  authority  to  change 
the  language  of  honor.  Retire  into  your  conscience,  and  ask 
it  by  what  word  it  would  call  the  act  to  which  you  owe  your 
gold." 

And  the  nephew  looked  at  the  uncle,  who  drooped 
his  head. 

"  1  will  not  tell  all  the  thoughts  that  besiege  me,  they  may 
all  be  reduced  to  a  single  one,  and  here  it  is  :  I  cannot  esteem 
a  man  who  knowingly  sullies  himself  for  a  sum  of  money, 
however  much  it  may  be.  A  hundred  sous,  stolen  at  gam- 
bling, or  six  times  a  hundred  thousand  francs,  due  to  a  legal 


280       ,  MADAj'nE  FIRAIIANI 

deception,  equally  dishonor  a  man.  1  mean  to  tell  you  all : 
I  regard  myself  as  smirched  by  a  love  that  but  lately  consti- 
tuted all  my  happiness.  There  arises  from  the  bottom  of  my 
soul  a  voice  that  my  tenderness  cannot  stifle.  Ah  I  I  have 
wept  for  having  more  conscience  than  love.  You  might 
commit  a  crime ;  1  would  conceal  you  in  my  bosom  from 
human  justice,  if  I  could  ;  but  my  devotedness  would  go  only 
so  far.  Love,  my  angel,  is  in  a  woman  the  most  unlimited 
confidence,  united  with  an  indescribable  need  to  venerate,  to 
adore  the  being  to  whom  she  belongs.  I  have  never  thought 
of  love  except  as  a  fire  in  which  even  the  noblest  sentiments 
are  purified,  a  fire  that  develops  them  all.  I  have  only  one 
thing  more  to  say  to  you  :  Come  to  me  poor,  my  love  will  be 
redoubled,  if  that  can  be ;  if  not,  give  me  up.  If  1  never  see 
you  again,  1  know  what  remains  for  me  to  do.  Now  1  do  not 
mean,  be  it  clearly  understood,  that  you  make  restitution  be- 
cause I  advise  you  to  do  so.  Consult  your  conscience  thor- 
oughly. It  is  not  necessary  that  this  act  of  justice  be  a 
sacrifice  made  to  love.  1  am  your  wife,  and  not  your  mis- 
tress ;  it  is  less  a  matter  of  pleasing  me  than  of  inspiring  in 
me  the  most  profound  esteem  for  you.  If  I  am  deceived,  if 
you  have  imperfectly  explained  to  me  your  father's  conduct ; 
in  fine,  if  you  have  the  least  ground  for  thinking  your  means 
lawfully  acquired, — oh  I  I  would  like  to  persuade  myself  that 
you  merit  no  blame  ! — decide  as  the  voice  of  your  conscience 
tells  you,  act  clearly  of  your  own  accord.  A  man  who  loves 
sincerely  as  you  love  me,  has  too  much  respect  for  all  the 
holy  trust  that  his  wife  puts  in  him,  to  be  dishonest.  I  now 
reproach  myself  for  all  that  I  have  just  written.  A  word  was 
sufficient,  perhaps,  and  my  preaching  instinct  has  carried  me 
on.  And  so  1  would  like  to  be  scolded,  not  too  much,  but  a 
little.  My  dear,  between  ourselves,  are  not  you  the  power? 
you  alone  ought  to  realize  your  faults.  Well,  my  master,  will 
you  say  that  I  understand  nothing  of  political  discussion?" 

"Well,  uncle,"  said  Octave,  whose  eyes  were 
filled  with  tears. 


MME.  FIRM  I  AN  I,  DE  BOURBONNE  AND 

OCT  A  VE 


III  fact,  Madame  Finniani  teas  not  slozv  in  mak- 
ing her  appearance. 

"Ah/''  she  said,  giving  indication  of  ill  humor 
on  seeing  Monsieur  de  Bonrbonne.  "  Bnt  our  uncle 
is  not  one  too  ma)iy,"  she  continued,  as  she  let  a 
smile  escape  her.  "  /  zvanted  to  kneel  humbly 
before  my  husband  and  entreat  him  to  accept  my 
fortune y  *  *  * 

Then,  unable  to  contain  her  happiness,  she  buried 
her  head  in   Octave's  bosom. 


ni-'iirKe.r' 


t 


MADAME  FIRMIANI  281 

"But  I  see  that  there  is  more  writing;  finish  it, 

then." 

"Oh!  there's  nothing  now  left  but  those  things 
that  should  be  read  only  by  a  lover." 

"Good,"  said  the  old  man,  "good,  my  boy.  I 
have  had  many  affairs  of  gallantry,  but  I  entreat 
you  to  believe  that  I  too  have  loved,  et  ego  in  Ar- 
cadia. Only  I  do  not  understand  why  you  give 
lessons  in  mathematics." 

"My  dear  uncle,  I  am  your  nephew;  does  not  the 
reading  of  this  letter  tell  you,  in  a  very  few  words, 
that  I  had  entrenched  somewhat  on  the  capital  left 
by  my  father?  After  having  read  this  letter  quite 
a  revolution  took  place  in  me,  and  on  the  spot  I  paid 
the  arrears  of  my  remorse.  I  will  never  be  able  to 
picture  to  you  the  state  in  which  I  was.  As  I  drove 
my  cab  through  the  Bois  a  voice  called  out  to  me: 
'Is  that  horse  yours?'  While  eating  I  said  to  my- 
self, 'Isn't  it  a  stolen  dinner?'  I  was  ashamed  of 
myself.  The  more  newly-born  my  probity,  the 
more  ardent  it  was.  I  first  ran  to  Madame  Firmi- 
ani's.  My  God!  uncle,  that  day  I  had  heart  pleas- 
ures, soul  enjoyments  that  were  worth  millions. 
With  her  I  went  over  the  account  of  what  I  owed  to 
the  Bourgneuf  family,  and  I  obligated  myself  to 
pay  them  three  per  cent  interest,  against  Madame 
Firmiani's  advice;  but  all  I  was  worth  would  not 
suffice  to  meet  that  sum.  Both  of  us  were  then 
enough  in  love  with  each  other,  near  enough  to 
being  husband  and  wife,  for  her  to  offer  and  for  me 
to  accept  her  savings — " 


282  MADAME  FIRMIANI 

"What!  besides  her  virtues  this  woman  saves 
something!"  the  uncle  exclaimed. 

"Do  not  make  fun  of  her,  uncle.  Her  position 
obliges  her  to  economize  in  many  ways.  In  1820 
her  husband  set  out  for  Greece,  where  he  died  three 
years  ago;  until  this  day  it  has  been  impossible  to 
get  legal  proof  of  his  death,  and  to  get  possession  of 
the  will  that  he  must  have  made  in  his  wife's  favor, 
an  important  document  that  was  taken,  lost  or  went 
astray  in  a  country  where  legal  papers  are  not  kept 
as  they  are  in  France,  and  where  there  is  no  consul. 
Not  knowing  but  that  one  day  she  will  be  obliged 
to  reckon  with  troublesome  heirs,  she  is  obliged  to 
keep  everything  in  the  best  of  order,  for  she  wants 
to  be  able  to  leave  her  wealth  as  Chateaubriand  has 
just  left  the  ministry.  Now,  I  want  to  acquire  a 
fortune  that  will  be  my  own,  so  as  to  restore  her 
wealth  to  my  wife,  in  case  she  were  ruined." 

"And  you  did  not  tell  me  of  that,  and  you  did  not 
come  to  me. — Oh!  my  nephew,  be  convinced,  then, 
that  I  love  you  enough  to  pay  your  honest  debts, 
the  debts  of  a  gentleman.  I  am  an  uncle  to  the  end, 
1  will  vindicate  myself." 

"Uncle,  I  know  of  your  vindications,  but  let  me 
get  rich  by  my  own  industry.  If  you  want  to 
oblige  me,  give  me  merely  an  annual  allowance  of 
a  thousand  crowns  until  I  need  capital  for  some 
undertaking.  Hold;  at  this  moment  1  am  so  happy 
that  my  only  concern  is  to  live.  I  give  lessons  so 
as  not  to  be  a  burden  on  anyone.  Ah!  if  you  knew 
with  what  pleasure  I  made  restitution!      Having 


MADAME  FIRMIANI  283 

taken  certain  steps,  I  at  last  found  the  Bourgneufs, 
in  misery  and  without  any  means.  That  family 
was  at  Saint-Germain,  in  a  wretched  dwelling. 
The  aged  father  was  carrying  on  a  lottery  office, 
his  two  daughters  were  doing  housework  and  attend- 
ing to  the  correspondence.  The  mother  was  nearly 
always  sick.  The  two  daughters  are  charming,  but 
thev  have  severely  learned  the  little  value  that  the 
world  sets  on  beauty  without  means.  What  a  pic- 
ture I  went  to  look  for  there !  If  1  entered  as  the 
accomplice  of  a  crime,  I  left  as  an  honest  man  and 
I  cleansed  the  memory  of  my  father.  Oh !  uncle,  I 
do  not  judge  him,  there  is  a  fascination  in  lawsuits, 
a  passion,  that  may  sometimes  mislead  the  most 
honest  man  in  the  world.  Lawyers  know  how  to 
give  the  appearance  of  legality  to  the  most  absurd 
pretensions,  law  has  syllogisms  that  humor  the 
errors  of  conscience,  and  judges  have  the  right  to 
err.  My  adventure  was  a  real  drama.  To  have 
been  in  the  place  of  Providence,  to  have  realized 
one  of  those  useless  wishes  *If  an  income  of  twenty 
thousand  francs  should  fall  to  us  from  the  sky  !*  that 
wish  which  we  all  entertain  with  a  smile;  to  get  a 
sublime  look  of  gratitude,  astonishment  and  admira- 
tion to  follow  a  look  full  of  imprecation;  to  bring 
opulence  to  a  family  assembled  of  an  evening  around 
the  light  of  a  mean  lamp,  before  a  peat  fire.  No, 
words  fail  in  the  presence  of  such  a  scene.  My 
extreme  justice  to  them  seemed  unjust.  In  fine,  if 
there  be  a  Paradise,  my  father  ought  to  be  happy 
there  now.     As  for  me,  I  am  loved  as  no  man  has 


284  MADAME  FIRMIANI 

been.  Madame  Firmiani  has  given  me  more  than 
happiness,  she  has  endowed  me  with  a  delicacy  that 
I  perhaps  lacked.  And  so  I  call  her  my  dear  con- 
science, one  of  those  love  expressions  that  answer 
certain  secret  harmonies  of  the  heart.  Probity 
brings  its  reward.  I  hope  soon  to  be  rich  by  my 
own  efforts;  I  am  trying  at  this  moment  to  solve  an 
industrial  problem,  and  if  I  succeed,  1  will  make 
millions." 

"Oh!  my  boy,  you  have  your  mother's  soul," 
said  the  old  man,  as  he  scarcely  restrained  the  tears 
that  moistened  his  eyes  as  he  thought  of  his  sister. 

At  that  moment,  despite  the  distance  that  sepa- 
rated Octave's  room  from  the  ground,  the  young 
man  and  his  uncle  heard  the  noise  made  by  the 
arrival  of  a  carriage. 

"It  is  she!"  he  said.  "I  know  her  horses  by  the 
way  they  stop." 

In  fact,  Madame  Firmiani  was  not  slow  in  mak- 
ing her  appearance. 

"Ah!"  she  said,  giving  indication  of  ill  humor 
on  seeing  Monsieur  de  Bourbonne.  "But  our  uncle 
is  not  one  too  many,"  she  continued,  as  she  let  a 
smile  escape  her.  "I  wanted  to  kneel  humbly  before 
my  husband  and  entreat  him  to  accept  my  fortune. 
The  Austrian  embassy  has  just  sent  me  a  deed  that 
proves  Firmiani's  death.  The  document,  drawn  up 
by  the  care  of  the  Austrian  internuncio  at  Constan- 
tinople, is  entirely  regular,  and  the  will  that  the 
valet  de  chambre  kept  to  give  to  me  is  added  thereto. 
Octave,  you  may  accept  all.     Go,  you  are  richer 


MADAME  FIRMIANI  285 

than  I;  you  have  there  treasures  to  which  God 
alone  can  add,"  she  continued,  as  she  patted  her 
husband  on  the  heart. 

Then,  unable  to  contain  her  happiness,  she  buried 
her  head  in  Octave's  bosom. 

*'My  niece,  of  old  we  made  love,  to-day  you 
love,"  said  the  uncle.  "You  are  all  that  is  good 
and  beautiful  in  humanity;  for  you  are  never 
guilty  of  your  faults,  they  always  come  from  us." 

Paris,  February,  1831. 


THE  MESSAGE 


(287) 


1 


i 


%^y*,^4ei<,i  /fsij^  ^  ^  f-S^ 


THE  COUNTESS  AT  MY  BED 


At  a  late  liojir  of  the  night  I  laas  awakened  by 
the  sliarp  rattling  made  by  the  rings  of  nty  cur- 
tains violently  drawn  on  their  iron  rod.  I  saw 
tlie  countess  seated  on  the  fx^t  of  niy  bed.  Her 
countenance  received  all  the  light  from  a  lamp 
placed  on  my  table. 

''Is  it  still  quite  true,  monsieur?'''  site  said  to  me. 


TO  THE  MARQUIS  DAMASO  PARETO 


19 


(289) 


THE  MESSAGE 


I  have  always  desired  to  relate  a  simple  story,  at 
the  telling  of  which  a  young  man  and  his  mistress 
were  seized  with  fright  and  took  refuge  in  each 
other's  hearts,  like  two  children  who  hug  each  other 
on  meeting  a  serpent  at  the  edge  of  a  wood.  At  the 
risk  of  belittling  interest  in  my  narrative  or  of 
passing  for  a  ninny,  I  begin  by  telling  you  the  pur- 
pose of  my  story.  I  played  a  part  in  this  almost 
common  drama;  if  it  does  not  interest  you,  it  will 
be  my  fault  as  well  as  that  of  historic  truth.  Many 
true  things  are  supremely  tiresome.  And  so  it  is 
half  of  talent  to  select  from  the  true  what  may  be- 
come poetic. 

In  1819  I  went  from  Paris  to  Moulins.  The  con- 
dition of  my  purse  obliged  me  to  travel  on  the 
outside  of  the  stage-coach.  The  English,  you 
know,  regard  the  seats  situated  in  that  aerial  part 
of  the  coach  as  the  best.  During  the  first  few 
leagues  of  the  journey  I  found  a  thousand  excellent 
reasons  to  justify  our  neighbors'  opinion.  A  young 
man,  who  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  little  richer  than  I 
was,  from  choice  mounted  near  me,  on  the  bench. 
He  received  my  arguments  with  inoffensive  smiles. 

(291) 


292  THE  MESSAGE 

Ere  long  a  certain  conformity  of  age  and  thought, 
our  mutual  love  for  the  open  air,  for  the  fine  country- 
views  that  spread  before  us  as  the  heavy  coach 
advanced,  then  a  certain  indescribable  magnetic 
attraction,  impossible  to  explain,  caused  to  arise 
between  us  that  sort  of  momentary  intimacy  to 
which  passengers  give  themselves  up  with  so  much 
the  more  complaisance  that  this  ephemeral  feeling 
seems  bound  to  come  to  an  end  at  once  and  to  in  no 
way  create  involvements  for  the  future.  We  had 
not  gone  thirty  leagues  when  we  had  spoken  of 
women  and  love.  With  all  the  oratorical  precau- 
tions desired  on  such  an  occasion,  naturally  the 
subject  of  mistresses  was  discussed.  Both  of  us 
young,  neither  of  us  had  yet  got  beyond  the  woman 
of  a  certain  age,  that  is,  the  woman  between  thirty- 
five  and  forty.  Oh!  a  poet  who  might  have  heard 
us,  from  Montargis  to  I  do  not  recall  what  stage, 
would  have  gathered  up  rather  heated  expressions, 
enrapturing  portraits  and  very  soft  confidences! 
Our  modest  fears,  our  silent  interjections  and  our 
still  blushing  looks  were  marked  with  an  eloquence, 
the  unaffected  charm  of  which  has  never  come  back 
to  me.  No  doubt  one  must  remain  young  in  order 
to  understand  youth.  So  we  understood  each  other 
marvelously  well  on  all  the  essential  points  of  that 
passion.  And,  in  the  first  place,  we  had  begun  to 
lay  it  down  in  fact  and  in  principle  that  there  was 
nothing  more  foolish  in  the  world  than  a  certificate 
of  birth;  that  women  of  forty  were  younger  than 
certain  women  of  twenty,  and,  that,  in  fine,  women 


<; 
■< 


THE   MESSAGE  293 

are  only  as  old  as  they  look.  This  system  set  no 
limit  to  love,  and,  in  good  faith,  we  swam  in  an 
unbounded  ocean.  In  fine,  after  having  made  our 
mistresses  young,  charming,  devoted,  countesses, 
noted  for  taste,  witty,  shrewd;  after  having  given 
them  pretty  feet,  a  skin  like  satin  and  even  sweetly 
perfumed,  we  acknowledged,  he,  that  Mada?ne  Sitch- 
a-one  was  thirty-eight,  and  I,  on  my  part,  that  I 
adored  a  woman  of  forty.  On  that  head,  delivered, 
both  of  us,  from  a  sort  of  vague  fear,  we  resumed 
our  confidences  the  more  easily  on  finding  ourselves 
brothers  in  love.  Then  it  was  as  to  which  of  us 
two  would  display  most  feeling.  One  had  on  one 
occasion  gone  two  hundred  leagues  to  see  his  mis- 
tress for  an  hour.  The  other  had  risked  being 
taken  for  a  wolf  and  shot  in  a  park,  in  order  to  be 
at  a  nocturnal  meeting-place.  In  fine,  all  our 
follies!  If  there  is  pleasure  in  recalling  past  dan- 
gers, is  there  not  also  much  delight  in  remembering 
vanished  pleasures .-'  it  is  enjoying  twice.  Perils, 
great  and  little  happinesses,  we  told  each  other  all, 
even  the  pleasantries.  My  friend's  countess  had 
smoked  a  cigar  to  please  him  ;  mine  made  my  choco- 
late for  me  and  did  not  let  a  day  pass  without 
writing  to  me  or  seeing  me;  his  had  come  to  stay 
at  his  house  for  three  days  at  the  risk  of  ruining 
her  reputation ;  mine  had  done  still  better,  or  worse 
if  you  will.  Our  husbands  adored  our  countesses, 
moreover;  they  lived  as  slaves  under  the  charm 
possessed  by  all  loving  women;  and,  more  silly  than 
the  law  allows,  they  put  us  in  only  just  so  much 


294  THE  MESSAGE 

peril  as  was  necessary  to  increase  our  pleasure. 
Oh!  how  speedily  the  wind  carried  off  our  words 
and  our  sweet  laughter ! 

On  approaching  Pouilly  I  very  closely  examined 
the  person  of  my  new  friend.  Certainly  I  very 
easily  believed  that  he  must  have  been  most 
seriously  loved.  Picture  to  yourself  a  young  man 
of  medium  height,  but  very  well  proportioned,  and 
having  a  happy  countenance  full  of  expression. 
His  hair  was  black  and  his  eyes  blue;  his  lips  were 
delicately  rose-tinted;  his  teeth,  white  and  well 
set;  a  genteel  paleness  also  adorned  the  fine  lines 
of  his  face,  then  a  faint  bistre  circle  was  drawn 
around  his  eyes,  as  if  he  had  been  convalescent. 
Add  to  this  that  he  had  white  hands,  well  shaped, 
and   cared  for   as  ought  to   be  those  of  a  pretty  *| 

woman,  that  he  appeared  to  be  well  educated,  was  f 

witty,  and  you  will  have  no  difificulty  in  conceding 
to  me  that  my  companion  might  have  done  honor  to 
a  countess.  In  fine,  more  than  one  young  woman 
would  have  desired  him  for  a  husband,  for  he  was  a 
viscount,  and  had  an  income  of  about  between 
twelve  and  fifteen  thousand  francs,  without  counting 
expectations. 

When  within  a  league  of  Pouilly  the  stage  was 
upset.  My  unfortunate  comrade  thought  he  would, 
in  order  to  save  himself,  jump  on  to  the  edge  of  a 
field  freshly  ploughed,  instead  of  holding  on  to  the 
bench,  as  1  did,  and  follow  the  motion  of  the  stage. 
He  either  made  his  jump  poorly  or  slipped,  I  do  not 
know   how   the   accident    happened,    but    he   was 


THE  MESSAGE  295 

crushed  by  the  coach,  which  fell  on  him.  We  car- 
ried him  to  a  peasant's  house.  Between  the  groans 
wrung  from  him  by  excruciating  pains,  he  was  able 
to  bequeath  to  me  the  carrying  out  of  one  of  those 
anxieties  to  which  the  last  wishes  of  a  dying  man 
give  the  character  of  sadness.  In  the  midst  of  his 
agony  the  poor  youth  was  tormented,  with  all  the 
candor  to  which  one  is  often  a  victim  at  his  age,  at 
the  grief  that  his  mistress  would  feel,  were  she  to 
learn  suddenly  of  his  death  through  a  newspaper. 
He  entreated  me  to  go  myself  to  break  the  news  to 
her.  Then  he  made  me  look  for  a  key  hanging  to  a 
ribbon  that  he  wore  crosswise  on  his  breast  I 
found  it  half  buried  in  his  flesh.  The  dying  man 
did  not  utter  the  slightest  complaint  when  I  drew  it 
out,  as  delicately  as  I  could,  from  the  wound  that  it 
had  inflicted.  Just  as  he  finished  giving  me  all  the 
instructions  necessary  for  getting  to  his  home,  at  La 
Charite-sur-Loire,  the  love-letters  that  his  mistress 
had  written  to  him,  and  that  he  entreated  me  to 
give  back  to  her,  he  lost  the  power  of  speech  in  the 
middle  of  a  phrase;  but  his  last  gesture  gave  me  to 
understand  that  the  fatal  key  would  be  a  pledge  of 
my  mission  to  his  mother.  Afflicted  at  not  being 
able  to  formulate  a  single  word  of  thanks,  for  he 
had  no  doubt  of  my  zeal,  he  looked  at  me  with  a 
suppliant  eye  for  a  moment,  bade  me  adieu  by  salut- 
ing me  with  a  motion  of  his  eyebrows,  then  he 
leaned  back  his  head,  and  died.  His  death  was  the 
only  fatal  accident  caused  by  the  upsetting  of  the 
coach. 


296  THE  MESSAGE 

"And  still  it  was  somewhat  his  own  fault,"  the 
driver  said  to  me. 

At  La  Charite  I  carried  out  this  poor  passenger's 
verbal  will.  His  mother  was  absent;  that  was  a 
sort  of  happiness  to  me.  Nevertheless,  I  had  to 
stand  the  grief  of  an  old  servant,  who  staggered 
when  I  related  her  young  master's  death  to  her ;  she 
fell  half  dead  on  a  chair  as  she  saw  that  key  still 
stained  with  blood ;  but,  as  I  was  entirely  concerned 
with  a  higher  suffering,  that  of  a  woman  from  whom 
fate  snatched  her  last  love,  I  left  the  old  housemaid 
pursuing  the  course  of  her  personifications,  and  I 
carried  off  the  precious  correspondence,  carefully 
sealed  by  my  friend  of  a  day. 

The   chateau   in  which  the  countess  dwelt  was  | 

situated  eight  leagues  from  Moulins,  and  to  reach  it 
still   required  going  some  leagues  across  country.  | 

It  was,  then,  rather  difficult  for  me  to  attend  to  my 
errand.  By  a  combination  of  circumstances  need- 
less to  explain,  I  had  only  the  money  necessary  to 
reach  Moulins.  With  the  enthusiasm  of  youth, 
however,  I  resolved  to  make  the  journey  on  foot, 
and  to  go  fast  enough  to  be  ahead  of  the  report  of 
bad  news,  which  travels  so  rapidly.  I  inquired  for 
the  shortest  way,  and  1  went  by  the  paths  of  Le 
Bourbonnais,  carrying,  so  to  say,  a  corpse  on  my 
shoulders.  In  proportion  as  I  advanced  towards  the 
chateau  of  Montpersan,  I  was  more  and  more  fright- 
ened at  the  strange  pilgrimage  that  I  had  under- 
taken. My  imagination  invented  a  thousand 
romantic  fancies.     I  pictured  to  myself  all  the  ways 


THE  MESSAGE  297 

in  which  I  could  find  the  Comtesse  de  Montpersan, 
or,  in  obedience  to  the  poetic  form  of  romances,  the 
Juliette  so  loved  by  the  young  passenger.  I  forged 
witty  replies  to  questions  that  I  supposed  would 
have  to  be  asked  of  me.  At  each  turn  in  the 
wood,  at  each  cut  in  the  road,  it  was  a  repeti- 
tion of  the  scene  of  Sosie  and  his  lantern,  in 
which  he  gives  an  account  of  the  battle.  To 
the  dishonor  of  my  heart,  1  thought  at  first  only 
of  my  bearing,  of  my  wit,  of  the  skill  that  I  wanted 
to  display;  but  when  I  was  in  the  country,  a  sinis- 
ter reflection  crossed  my  mind  as  a  thunderbolt 
furrows  and  tears  a  veil  of  gray  clouds.  What  ter- 
rible news  to  a  woman  who,  entirely  concerned  at 
that  moment  with  her  young  friend,  was  hoping 
from  hour  to  hour  for  nameless  joys,  after  having 
taken  the  greatest  trouble  to  bring  him  legally  to 
her  house!  In  fine,  there  was  still  a  cruel  charity 
in  being  the  messenger  of  death.  And  so  1  hastened 
my  pace,  bedraggling  and  bemiring  myself  on  the  Le 
Bourbonnais  roads.  I  soon  reached  a  great  avenue 
of  chestnut  trees,  at  the  end  of  which  the  pile  of  the 
Montpersan  chateau  was  outlined  against  the  sky, 
like  a  brown  cloud  with  a  bright  and  fantastic  back- 
ground. On  arriving  at  the  chateau  gate,  I  found 
it  wide  open.  This  unforeseen  circumstance 
destroyed  my  plans  and  my  suppositions.  Yet  I 
entered  boldly,  and  at  once  I  had  alongside  of  me 
two  dogs  that  barked  like  real  country  dogs.  On 
hearing  that  noise  a  stout  servant  girl  ran,  and 
when  I  had  told  her  that  I  wanted  to  speak  to  the 


298  THE  MESSAGE 

countess,  with  a  wave  of  her  hand  she  pointed  to 
the  great  spaces  of  an  English  park  that  wound 
around  the  chateau,  and  answered: 

"Madame  is  over  there — " 

"Thanks!"  I  said  to  her  in  an  ironical  tone. 

Her  over  there  might  keep  me  wandering  through 
the  park  for  two  hours. 

A  pretty  little  girl  with  hair  in  ringlets,  with  a 
rose-colored  girdle,  a  white  dress  and  a  plaited 
apron,  arrived  in  the  meantime,  and  heard  or 
guessed  at  the  question  and  answer.  On  seeing 
me  she  disappeared,  calling  in  a  low,  fine  accent: 

"Mother,  here  is  a  gentleman  who  wants  to  speak 
to  you." 

And  I  had  to  follow,  through  the  windings  of  the 
alleys,  the  jumps  and  bounds  of  the  white  apron, 
which,  like  a  will-o'-the-wisp,  showed  me  the  way 
that  the  little  girl  took. 

The  whole  story  must  be  told:  At  the  last  bush 
of  the  avenue  1  had  raised  my  collar,  brushed  my 
mean  hat  and  my  trousers  with  the  cuffs  of  my 
coat,  my  coat  with  its  sleeves,  and  the  sleeves 
with  each  other ;  then  I  had  carefully  buttoned  it 
so  as  to  show  the  inside  of  the  lapels,  always  a 
little  newer-looking  than  is  the  rest;  in  fine,  I  had 
let  down  my  trousers  over  my  boots,  which  I  had 
artistically  rubbed  in  the  grass.  Thanks  to  this 
Gascon  toilet,  1  hoped  not  to  be  taken  for  the  sub- 
prefecture  roundsman;  but  when  to-day  I  go  back  in 
thought  to  that  hour  of  my  youth,  I  sometimes  laugh 
to  myself. 


I 


THE  MESSAGE  299 

All  of  a  sudden,  just  as  1  was  adjusting  my  bear- 
ing, at  the  turn  of  a  green  winding,  in  the  midst  of 
a  myriad  of  flowers  lit  up  by  a  warm  ray  of  the  sun, 
I  saw  Juliette  and  her  husband.  The  pretty  little 
girl  was  holding  her  mother's  hand,  and  it  was  easy 
to  notice  that  the  countess  had  hastened  her  steps 
as  she  heard  her  child's  ambiguous  phrase.  Aston- 
ished at  the  appearance  of  an  unknown  person  who 
saluted  her  in  a  rather  awkward  manner,  she 
stopped,  gave  me  a  rather  coldly  polite  look  and  an 
adorable  wry  face  which  to  me  revealed  all  her 
deluded  hopes.  I  tried  to  call  up,  but  in  vain,  some 
of  my  fine  phrases  that  I  had  prepared  so  labori- 
ously. During  that  moment  of  mutual  hesitation 
the  husband  might  also  enter  into  the  scene. 
Myriads  of  thoughts  passed  through  my  brain. 
Out  of  politeness,  I  uttered  a  few  insignificant 
words,  asking  whether  the  persons  present  were 
really  indeed  the  Comte  and  Comtesse  de  Mont- 
persan.  These  trifling  remarks  enabled  me  to  judge 
with  a  single  glance  and  to  analyze,  with  a  per- 
spicacity rare  at  my  age,  the  two  spouses  whose 
solitude  was  going  to  be  so  rudely  disturbed.  The 
husband  seemed  to  be  the  type  of  those  gentlemen 
who  are  at  present  the  finest  ornament  of  the  prov- 
inces. He  wore  large  shoes  with  heavy  soles :  I 
mention  them  first  because  they  struck  me  even 
more  keenly  than  his  faded  black  coat,  his  well- 
worn  trousers,  his  loose  cravat  and  his  wilted  shirt- 
collar.  In  that  man  there  was  a  little  of  the 
magistrate,  much  more  of  the  prefecture  councillor, 


300  THE  MESSAGE 


all  the  importance  of  a  mayor  of  a  canton  whom  ^ 

nothing  resists,  and  the  sourness  of  an  eligible  can- 
didate who  had  been  periodically  rejected  since 
1816;  an  incredible  mixture  of  rural  common  sense 
and  dullness;  no  manners,  but  the  haughtiness  of 
wealth;  much  submission  to  his  wife,  but  thinking 
himself  the  master,  and  ready  to  wince  in  little 
things  without  having  any  care  about  important 
matters;  moreover,  a  withered  face,  very  much 
wrinkled  and  tanned;  some  gray  hairs,  long  and 
straight — such  was  the  man.  But  the  countess! 
ah!  what  a  keen  and  striking  contrast  she  presented 
to  her  husband !  She  was  a  small  woman  of  refmed 
and  graceful  form,  having  a  charming  shape;  dainty 
and  so  delicate,  you  would  be  afraid  of  breaking  her 
bones  by  touching  her.  She  wore  a  white  muslin 
dress ;  she  had  on  her  head  a  pretty  bonnet  with 
rose  ribbons,  a  rose-colored  girdle,  guimpe  so  rav- 
ishingly  filled  by  her  shoulders  and  by  the  most 
graceful  contours,  at  sight  of  which  there  sprang 
from  the  bottom  of  the  heart  an  irresistible  desire 
to  possess  them.  Her  eyes  were  bright,  black  and 
expressive,  her  motion  easy,  her  foot  charming. 
An  old  gallant  would  not  have  thought  her  more 
than  thirty  years  old,  so  much  youth  was  there  in 
her  brow  and  in  the  most  fragile  details  of  her  head. 
As  for  character,  she  seemed  to  me  to  pertain  at  one 
and  the  same  time  to  the  Comtesse  de  Lignolles  and 
the  Marquise  de  B — ,  two  types  of  woman  always 
fresh  in  a  young  man's  memory,  when  he  has  read 
Louvet's  romance.     I  suddenly  penetrated  into  all 


THE  MESSAGE  301 

the  secrets  of  that  household,  and  formed  a  diplo- 
matic resolve  worthy  of  an  old  ambassador.  It 
was,  perhaps,  the  only  time  in  my  life  that  I  had 
tact  and  that  I  understood  wherein  consisted  address 
on  the  part  of  courtiers  and  people  of  the  world. 

Since  those  care-free  days  I  have  had  too  many 
battles  to  fight  to  have  had  time  to  distil  the 
slightest  acts  of  life  and  to  do  anything  but  by 
carrying  out  the  cadences  of  etiquette  and  good  form 
that  dry  up  the  most  generous  emotions. 

"Monsieur  le  Comte,  I  would  like  to  speak  with 
you  in  private,"  I  said  in  a  mysterious  tone  and 
receding  a  few  steps. 

He  followed  me.  Juliette  left  us  alone,  and  went 
off  carelessly  like  a  woman  certain  of  learning  her 
husband's  secrets,  at  the  moment  when  she  will 
desire  to  know  them.  I  briefly  told  the  count  of  my 
traveling  companion's  death.  The  effect  that  this 
news  had  on  him  proved  to  me  that  he  had  a  rather 
warm  affection  for  his  young  colleague,  and  this 
discovery  gave  me  boldness  to  answer  thus  in  the 
dialogue  that  followed  between  the  two  of  us. 

"My  wife  will  be  in  despair,"  he  exclaimed, 
"and  I  will  be  obliged  to  take  considerable  precau- 
tion in  informing  her  of  this  unfortunate  event." 

"Sir,  in  addressing  you  in  the  first  place,"  I  said 
to  him,  "I  have  performed  my  duty.  I  did  not  wish 
to  discharge  this  mission  entrusted  to  me  by  an  un- 
known man  to  the  countess  without  notifying  you; 
but  he  confided  to  me  a  sort  of  honorable  trust,  a 
secret  which  I  have  not  the  power  to  give  away. 


302  THE  MESSAGE 

In  accordance  with  the  lofty  idea  that  he  gave  me  of 
your  character,  I  thought  that  you  would  not  be  op- 
posed to  my  carrying  out  his  last  wishes.  The 
countess  will  be  free  to  break  the  silence  that  has 
been  imposed  on  me." 

On  hearing  himself  praised,  the  gentleman  bal- 
anced his  head  very  pleasantly.     He  answered  me 
with  a  rather  complicated  compliment,  and  ended  by 
leaving  the  field  free  to  me.     We  retraced  our  steps. 
At  that  moment  the  bell   summoned  to  dinner;     I 
was  invited  to  partake  of  it.     Finding  us  grave  and 
silent,  Juliette  examined  us  furtively.     Strangely 
surprised  at  seeing  her  husband  seizing  a  frivolous 
pretext  for  giving  us  a  chance  for  a  private  conver- 
sation, she  stopped  as  she  cast  on  me  one  of  those 
glances  which  only  women  can  give.     There  was 
in  her  look  all  the  curiosity  allowed  to  a  mistress 
of  a  house  who  receives  a  stranger  coming  unex- 
pectedly to  her,  as  if  fallen  from  the  clouds;  there 
were  all  the  questionings  that  my  garb  called  for,  as 
well  as  my  youth  and  countenance, — what  strange 
contrasts! — then  all  the  disdain  of  a  mistress  who  is 
idolized  and  in  whose  eyes  men  are  nothing,  except 
a  single  one;  there  were  involuntary  fears,  dread, 
and  the  tedium   of  having  an   unexpected   guest, 
when,  no  doubt,  she  had  just  prepared  for  her  love 
all    the  happiness  of  solitude.     I  understood  that 
mute  eloquence,  and  I  answered  it  with  a  sad  smile 
full  of  pity  and  compassion.     Then  I  contemplated 
her  for  a  moment  in  all  the  splendor  of  her  beauty,  on 
a  fme  day,  in  the  middle  of  a  narrow  alley  bordered 


THE  MESSAGE  303 

with  flowers.     On  seeing  that  admirable  picture  I 
could  not  refrain  from  heaving  a  sigh. 

"Alas!  madame,  I  have  just  made  a  very  painful 
journey,  undertaken — for  you  only." 

"Monsieur!"  she  said  to  me. 

"Oh!"  I  continued,  "I  come  in  the  name  of  him 
who  calls  you  Juliette." 

She  grew  pale. 

"You  will  not  see  him  to-day." 

"Is  he  ill  ?"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"Yes,"  I  replied  to  her.  "But,  I  pray  you,  becalm 
— I  have  been  charged  by  him  to  entrust  to  you  some 
secrets  that  concern  you,  and  believe  me  that  never 
will  messenger  be  more  discreet  or  more  devoted." 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

"Suppose  he  no  longer  loved  you?" 

"Oh!  that  is  impossible!"  she  exclaimed  as  a 
slight  smile  escaped  her,  that  expressed  her  thoughts 
openly. 

Suddenly  she  had  a  sort  of  shivering,  cast  a  wild 
and  hurried  glance  on  me,  blushed  and  said: 

"He  is  alive?" 

Great  God!  what  a  terrible  word!  I  was  too 
young  to  bear  its  tone,  I  did  not  answer,  and  looked 
at  that  unfortunate  woman  with  a  stupefied  air. 

"Monsieur,  monsieur,  an  answer!"  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"Yes,  madame." 

"Is  that  true?  Oh!  tell  me  the  truth,  I  can  bear 
it  Tell!  Any  sorrow  will  be  less  poignant  to  me 
than  is  my  suspense." 


304  THE  MESSAGE 

I  answered  with  two  tears  wrung  from  me  by  the 
strange  accents  with  which  these  phrases  were 
accompanied. 

She  leaned  against  a  tree  and  uttered  a  feeble  cry. 

"Madame,"  1  said  to  her,  "here  comes  your  hus- 
band!" 

"Have  I  a  husband?" 

On  saying  this  she  fled  and  disappeared. 

"Well,  dinner  is  getting  cold,"  the  count  ex- 
claimed.    "Come,  monsieur." 

Thereupon  I  followed  the  master  of  the  house, 
who  led  me  into  a  dining-room,  where  I  saw  a  re- 
past served  with  all  the  splendor  to  which  Parisian 
tables  have  accustomed  us.  There  were  five 
covers :  those  of  the  two  spouses  and  that  of  the 
little  girl;  mine,  which  was  to  have  been  his;  the 
last  was  that  of  a  canon  of  Saint-Denis  who,  grace 
having  been  said,  asked : 

"Where,  then,  is  our  dear  countess?" 

"Oh!  she  is  coming,"  replied  the  count,  who, 
after  having  hurriedly  served  us  with  the  soup,  gave 
himself  quite  an  ample  plate  of  it  and  got  away 
with  it  in  a  marvelously  short  time. 

"Oh!  nephew,"  the  canon  exclaimed,  "if  your 
wife  were  here  you  would  be  more  discreet." 

"Papa  will  make  himself  sick,"  the  little  girl  ex- 
claimed in  a  mischievous  tone. 

A  moment  after  this  singular  gastronomic  episode, 
and  just  as  the  count  was  hurriedly  carving  an  un- 
certain piece  of  venison,  a  chambermaid  came  in  | 
and  said : 


t 


jl 


THE  MESSAGE  305 

"Monsieur,  we  cannot  find  madame!" 

At  these  words  I  arose  instantly,  fearing  some 
misfortune,  and  my  countenance  so  keenly  expressed 
my  fears  that  the  old  canon  followed  me  to  the  gar- 
den. The  husband  came  from  decency  as  far  as  the 
threshold. 

"Stay!  stay!  you  need  have  no  fear,"  he  called 
out  to  us. 

But  he  did  not  accompany  us.  The  canon,  the 
chambermaid  and  myself  scoured  the  paths  and 
grassplots  of  the  park,  calling,  listening,  and  so 
much  the  more  uneasy  as  I  told  of  the  young  vis- 
count's death.  While  running  I  related  the  circum- 
stances of  that  fatal  event,  and  observed  that  the 
chambermaid  was  extremely  attached  to  her  mis- 
tress, for  she  entered  quite  as  much  as  the  canon 
into  the  secrets  of  my  dread.  We  went  to  the 
ponds,  we  visited  every  spot  without  finding  the 
countess,  or  the  faintest  trace  of  her  course.  At 
last,  on  returning  along  a  wall,  I  heard  dull  and 
deeply  smothered  groans  that  seemed  to  come  from 
a  sort  of  barn.  At  all  hazards  I  entered  it  There 
we  discovered  Juliette,  who,  moved  by  the  instinct 
of  despair,  had  there  buried  herself  amid  the  hay. 
She  had  covered  her  head  so  as  to  deaden  her  horri- 
ble cries,  in  obedience  to  an  invincible  shame:  they 
were  the  sobs  and  tears  of  a  child,  but  more  pene- 
trating, more  plaintive.  There  was  nothing  more 
in  the  world  for  her.  The  chambermaid  freed  her 
mistress,  who  allowed  this  to  be  done  with  the 
languid  indifference  of  a  dying  animal.  This  girl 
20 


306  THE  MESSAGE 

knew  not  what  else  to  say  but:    "Come,  madame, 


come." 


The  old  canon  asked : 

"But  what  ails  her?    What  is  the  matter  with 
you,  niece?" 

At  last,  aided  by  the  chambermaid,  I  brought 
Juliette  to  her  room;  1  carefully  gave  instructions  to 
watch  over  her  and  to  tell  everybody  that  the 
countess  had  a  sick  headache.  Then  we  came  down 
again,  the  canon  and  I,  to  the  dining-room.  Some 
time  had  already  elapsed  since  we  had  left  the 
count,  I  hardly  thought  of  him  but  at  the  moment 
when  I  found  myself  under  the  peristyle;  his  indif- 
ference surprised  me,  but  my  astonishment  increased 
when  I  found  him  philosophically  seated  at  table: 
he  had  eaten  almost  the  whole  dinner,  to  the  great 
delight  of  his  daughter,  who  smiled  at  seeing  her 
father  flagrantly  disobeying  the  countess's  orders. 
That  husband's  strange  indifference  was  explained 
to  me  by  the  slight  altercation  that  arose  suddenly 
between  the  canon  and  him.  The  count  was  sub- 
jected to  a  severe  diet  that  the  doctors  had  imposed 
on  him  to  heal  him  of  a  serious  malady,  the  name 
of  which  has  escaped  me;  and,  impelled  by  that 
ferocious  gluttony  rather  common  to  convalescents, 
the  appetite  of  the  beast  had  in  him  gained  the 
upper  hand  over  all  the  sensibilities  of  the  man.  In 
a  moment  I  had  seen  nature  in  all  its  truth,  under 
two  very  different  aspects  which  brought  the  comi- 
cal into  the  very  heart  of  the  most  dreadful  sorrow. 
The  evening  was  a  sad  one.     1  was  tired.     The 


THE  MESSAGE  307 

canon  used  all  his  intelligence  to  find  out  the  cause 
of  his  niece's  tears.  The  husband  digested  in 
silence,  after  having  been  satisfied  with  a  rather 
vague  explanation  that  the  countess  had  given  him 
of  her  illness  through  her  chambermaid,  and  which 
was,  I  believe,  borrowed  from  the  indispositions 
natural  to  woman.  We  all  went  to  bed  early.  As 
I  passed  by  the  countess's  room  on  going  to  my 
resting-place  whither  a  valet  was  showing  me  the 
way,  I  timidly  asked  for  news  about  her.  Recog- 
nizing my  voice,  she  insisted  on  my  going  in,  she 
wanted  to  speak  to  me;  but,  not  being  able  to  artic- 
ulate anything,  she  bowed  her  head  and  I  retired. 
In  spite  of  the  cruel  emotions  that  I  had  shared  with 
the  good  faith  of  a  young  man,  I  slept,  overcome  by 
the  fatigue  of  a  forced  march.  At  a  late  hour  of  the 
night  I  was  awakened  by  the  sharp  rattling  made 
by  the  rings  of  my  curtains  violently  drawn  on  their 
iron  rod.  1  saw  the  countess  seated  on  the  foot  of 
my  bed.  Her  countenance  received  all  the  light 
from  a  lamp  placed  on  my  table. 

"Is  it  still  quite  true,  monsieur?"  she  said  to  me. 
"I  do  not  know  how  I  can  live  after  the  terrible  blow 
that  has  just  struck  me;  but  at  this  moment  I  feel 
calm.     I  want  to  learn  all." 

"How  calm!"  I  said  to  myself  on  noticing  the 
frightful  paleness  of  her  complexion,  which  made  a 
contrast  with  the  brown  color  of  her  hair,  on  hear- 
ing the  guttural  sounds  of  her  voice,  on  remaining 
stunned  by  the  ravages  clearly  shown  in  all  her 
altered  features. 


308  THE  MESSAGE 

She  was  already  blanched  like  a  woman  robbed  of 
the  last  tints  that  autumn  impresses  on  her.  Her 
red  and  swollen  eyes,  devoid  of  all  their  beauties, 
reflected  only  a  bitter  and  profound  sorrow:  you 
would  have  said  it  was  but  a  gray  cloud,  where  so 
lately  the  sun  had  glistened. 

I  repeated  simply,  without  dwelling  too  much  on 
certain  circumstances  too  painful  for  her,  the  rapid 
event  that  had  robbed  her  of  her  friend,  I  told  her 
of  the  first  day  of  our  journey,  so  filled  up  with  the 
memories  of  their  love.  She  did  not  weep,  she 
listened  with  avidity,  her  head  bent  towards  me, 
like  a  zealous  physician  diagnosing  a  disease. 
Taking  advantage  of  a  moment  when  she  appeared 
to  me  to  have  entirely  opened  her  heart  to  sufferings 
and  to  want  to  plunge  into  her  misfortune  with  all 
the  ardor  given  by  the  first  fever  of  despair,  I  spoke 
to  her  of  the  fears  that  agitated  the  poor  dying 
youth,  and  told  her  how  and  why  he  had  entrusted 
me  with  this  fatal  errand.  Her  eyes  were  then 
dried  by  the  dark  fire  that  escaped  from  the  deepest 
regions  of  her  soul.  She  was  able  to  grow  still 
paler.  When  I  offered  to  her  the  letters  that  I  had 
kept  under  my  pillow,  she  took  them  mechanically; 
then  she  trembled  violently,  and  said  to  me  in  a 
hollow  voice: 

"And  I  who  burned  his!  1  have  nothing  from 
him!  nothing!  nothing!" 

She  struck  her  forehead  vehemently. 

"Madame — "  I  said  to  her. 

She  looked  at  me  with  a  convulsive  movement 


THE  MESSAGE  309 

"I  cut  from  his  head,"  I  said  continuing,  "this 
lock  of  hair." 

And  I  presented  to  her  this  last,  this  incorruptible 
fragment  of  him  whom  she  loved.  Ah!  if  you  had 
received  as  I  did  the  scalding  tears  that  then  fell  on 
niy  hands,  you  would  know  what  gratitude  is  when 
it  is  so  akin  to  kindness!  She  clasped  my  hands, 
and,  with  a  choking  voice,  with  a  look  bright  as  if 
from  fever,  a  look  in  which  her  frail  happiness 
radiated  through  terrible  sufferings: 

"Ah!  you  love!"  she  said.  "Be  always  happy  I 
do  not  lose  her  who  is  dear  to  you!" 

She  did   not  finish,  but  fled  with  her  treasure. 

Next  day  this  nocturnal  scene,  confounded  with 
my  dreams,  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  fiction.  To  con- 
vince myself  of  the  painful  truth  I  had  to  make  a 
fruitless  search  for  the  letters  under  my  bolster.  It 
would  be  useless  to  narrate  to  you  the  events  of  the 
morrow.  I  remained  some  hours  longer  with  the 
Juliette  of  whom  my  poor  traveling  companion  had 
boasted  so  much.  The  slightest  words,  gestures  and 
actions  of  that  woman  proved  to  me  the  nobility  of 
soul,  the  delicacy  of  feeling,  that  made  of  her  one  of 
those  darling  creatures  of  love  and  devotedness  so 
rarely  scattered  over  this  earth.  Towards  evening 
the  Comte  de  Montpersan,  himself,  took  me  to 
Moulins.  On  arriving  there  he  said  to  me  in  a 
somewhat  embarrassed  way: 

"Monsieur,  if  it  is  not  abusing  your  complacency, 
and  acting  rather  indiscreetly  with  an  unknown 
person  to  whom  we  are  already  under  obligations, 


310  THE  MESSAGE 

would  you  be  so  kind  as  to  take  to  Paris,  since  you 
are  going  there,  to  Monsieur  de (I  have  for- 
gotten the  name),  Rue  de  Sentier,  a  sum  that  1  owe 
him,  and  that  he  has  asked  me  to  send  him  at 
once?" 

"With  pleasure,  monsieur." 

And,  in  the  innocence  of  my  soul,  I  took  a  roll  of 
twenty-five  louis,  which  served  me  to  get  back  to 
Paris,  and  which  I  gave  faithfully  to  Monsieur  de 
Montpersan's  pretended  correspondent. 

In  Paris  only,  and  on  taking  this  sum  to  the  house 
indicated,  I  learned  of  the  ingenious  adroitness 
with  which  Juliette  had  served  me.  Did  not  the 
way    in   which  this   gold   was   given   to   me,    the  'j-, 

discretion  observed  in  regard  to  a  poverty  easily  | 

guessed  at,  fully  reveal  the  genius  of  a  loving 
woman  ? 

What  a  delight  to  have  been  able  to  relate  this 
adventure  to  a  woman  who,  in  fear,  has  pressed 
your  hands,  and  has  said  to  you:  "Oh!  dear,  do 
not  die,  not  you!" 

Paris,  January,  1832. 


THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS 


(3") 


^ 


THIS  IS  DEDICATED  TO  AUGUSTE  BORGET 

By  his  friend, 

De  Balzac 


(3T3) 


THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS 

* 

A  physician  to  whom  science  owes  a  plausible 
theory  in  physiology,  and  who,  while  still  young 
took  rank  among  the  celebrities  of  the  Ecole  de 
Paris,  that  centre  of  light  to  which  the  physi- 
cians of  Europe  all  pay  homage,  Doctor  Bianchon 
practised  surgery  long  before  devoting  himself  to 
medicine.  His  early  studies  were  directed  by  one 
of  the  greatest  of  French  surgeons,  by  the  illustrious 
Desplein,  who  passed  like  a  meteor  in  science. 
Even  his  enemies  admit  that  an  untransmittable 
method  was  buried  in  his  tomb.  Like  all  men  of 
genius,  he  was  without  successor:  he  brought  and 
carried  off  all  with  him.  The  glory  of  surgeons  is 
like  that  of  actors,  who  exist  only  in  their  lifetime 
and  whose  talent  is  no  longer  appreciable  once  they 
have  disappeared.  Actors  and  surgeons,  like  great 
singers  also,  like  virtuosi,  who,  by  their  execution, 
increase  tenfold  the  power  of  music,  are  all  heroes 
of  the  moment.  Desplein  furnishes  the  proof  of 
this  similarity  between  the  destiny  of  these  transi- 
tory geniuses.  His  name,  so  famous  yesterday,  to- 
day almost  forgotten,  will  remain  in  his  specialty, 

(315) 


3l6  THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS 

but  never  cross  its  borders.  But  are  not  unheard- 
of  circumstances  needed  for  the  name  of  a  scholar  to 
pass  from  the  domain  of  Science  into  the  general 
history  of  Humanity?  Did  Desplein  have  that  uni- 
versality of  knowledge  which  makes  of  a  man  the 
word  or  Vae  figure  of  an  age  ?  Desplein  was  supreme 
in  taking  in  at  a  glance:  he  penetrated  both  the 
patient  and  his  malady  with  either  an  acquired  or  a 
natural  intuition  that  enabled  him  to  grasp  indica- 
tions peculiar  to  the  individual,  to  determine  the 
precise  moment,  the  hour,  the  minute  at  which  it 
was  necessary  to  operate,  by  taking  into  account  the 
atmospheric  circumstances  and  the  peculiarities  of 
temperament.  To  be  able  to  walk  thus  hand  in 
hand  with  nature,  had  he  studied,  then,  the  inces- 
sant junction  of  beings  and  of  the  elementary  sub- 
stances contained  in  the  atmosphere  or  that  the 
earth  furnishes  to  the  man  who  absorbs  them  and 
prepares  them  for  the  extracting  therefrom  of  a 
special  expression.''  Did  he  proceed  by  that  power 
of  deduction  and  analogy  to  which  Cuvier's  genius 
is  due .''  However  this  may  be,  that  man  had  made 
himself  the  confidant  of  the  flesh,  he  grasped  it  in 
the  past  as  well  as  in  the  future,  placing  his  depend- 
ence on  the  present.  But  did  he  sum  up  the  whole 
of  science  in  his  person,  as  did  Hippocrates,  Galen 
and  Aristotle.?  Did  he  lead  a  whole  school  towards 
new  worlds }  No.  If  it  be  impossible  to  deny  to 
that  perpetual  observer  of  human  chemistry  the 
ancient  science  of  magianism,  that  is,  the  knowledge 
of  principles  in  fusion,  the  causes  of  life,  life  before 


THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS  317 

life,  what  it  will  be  from  its  preparations  before  being, 
it  must  be  acknowledged  that,  unfortunately,  every- 
thing in  him  was  personal:  isolated  in  his  life  by 
egoism,  egoism  to-day  commits  suicide  on  his  glory. 
His  tomb  is  not  surmounted  by  the  sonorous  statue 
that  repeats  to  the  future,  the  mysteries  which 
genius  is  looking  for  at  his  expense.  But  perhaps 
Desplein's  talent  was  inseparable  from  his  beliefs, 
and  consequently  mortal.  To  him  the  terrestrial 
atmosphere  was  a  generating  cell;  he  regarded  the 
earth  as  an  egg  in  its  shell,  and  being  unable  to  fmd 
out  whether  it  was  the  egg  or  the  chicken  that  was 
first,  he  admitted  neither  the  cock  nor  the  egg.  He 
believed  neither  in  the  animal  anterior  nor  in  the 
spirit  posterior  to  man.  Desplein  was  not  in  doubt, 
he  affirmed.  His  pure  and  frank  atheism  resembled 
that  of  many  scholars,  the  best  people  in  the  world, 
but  invincibly  atheists,  atheists  such  as  religious 
people  hold  there  cannot  be.  This  opinion  could  not 
be  otherwise  in  the  case  of  a  man  accustomed  from 
his  youth  to  dissecting  the  being  par  excellence, 
before,  during,  and  after  life,  to  prying  into  it  in  all 
its  apparatus  without  finding  there  that  one  soul,  so 
necessary  to  religious  theories.  Recognizing  in  it  a 
cerebral  centre,  a  nervous  centre  and  an  aerosan- 
guine  centre,  the  first  two  of  which  supplanted  each 
other  so  well,  that  in  the  later  days  of  his  life  he 
was  convinced  that  the  sense  of  hearing  was  not 
absolutely  necessary  in  order  to  hear,  nor  the  sense 
of  sight  absolutely  required  in  order  to  see,  and  that 
the  solar  plexus   replaced  them   beyond   a   doubt; 


3l8  THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS 

Desplein,  on  finding  two  souls  in  man,  corroborated 
his  atheism  with  this  fact,  though  he  as  yet  did  not 
prejudicate  in  regard  to  God.  That  man  died,  it  is 
said,  in  the  final  impenitence  in  which,  unfortu- 
nately, die  many  fine  geniuses  whom  God  might 
pardon. 

That  man's  life,  great  as  he  was,  had  in  it  many 
petty  things,  to  use  the  expression  employed  by  his 
enemies,  who  were  anxious  to  belittle  his  glory, 
but  which  it  would  be  more  accurate  to  call  appar- 
ent contradictions.  Never  having  had  cognizance 
of  the  conclusions  from  which  superior  minds  act, 
the  envious  or  the  narrow-minded  at  once  arm  them- 
selves with  some  superficial  contradictions,  to  draw 
up  a  bill  of  indictment  on  which  they  have  them 
momentarily  judged.  If,  later  on,  success  crowns 
the  combinations  that  are  attacked,  by  showing  the 
correlation  between  preparations  and  results,  there 
always  remains  a  little  of  the  advance  calumnies. 
Thus,  in  our  own  day.  Napoleon  was  condemned  by 
our  contemporaries  when  he  unfolded  his  eagle's 
wings  over  England:  1822  was  needed  to  explain 
1804  and  the  flat-boats  of  Boulogne. 

With  Desplein,  glory  and  science  being  beyond 
attack,  his  enemies  found  fault  with  his  strange 
temperament  and  his  character;  while  he  merely 
had  that  quality  which  the  English  call  eccentricity. 
Sometimes,  superbly  clad  like  the  tragic  writer 
Crebillon,  he  suddenly  affected  a  strange  indiffer- 
ence in  the  matter  of  garb;  he  was  sometimes 
seen  in  a   carriage,  sometimes  on   foot.      In  turn 


THE   ATHEIST'S  MASS  319 

brusque  and  good,  in  appearance  harsh  and 
stingy,  but  capable  of  offering  his  means  to  his  ex- 
iled masters  who  did  him  the  honor  of  accepting 
them  for  some  days,  no  man  occasioned  more  con- 
tradictory opinions.  Though  capable,  so  as  to  have 
.  a  black  cord  that  physicians  would  not  have  had  to 
solicit,  letting  a  copy  of  the  Hor(^  DiurncB  fall  from 
his  pocket  at  court,  just  think  of  it,  he  mocked  at 
all  this  within  himself;  he  held  men  in  profound 
contempt,  after  having  observed  them  from  above 
and  from  below,  after  having  taken  them  by  sur- 
prise in  their  true  character,  in  the  midst  of  the 
most  solemn  and  the  most  ignoble  of  the  acts  of 
existence.  With  a  great  man,  qualities  are  often 
inseparable.  If,  among  these  colossi,  one  of  them 
has  more  talent  than  wit,  his  wit  is  still  more  ex- 
tensive than  that  of  him  of  whom  it  is  simply  said: 
"He  has  wit."  All  genius  supposes  a  moral  view. 
This  view  may  be  applied  to  any  specialty  what- 
ever ;  but  whoever  sees  the  flower,  ought  to  see  the 
sun.  He  who  heard  a  diplomatist,  who  had  been 
saved  by  him,  asking:  "How  goes  the  Emperor.?" 
and  who  answered:  "The  courtier  is  returning,  the 
man  will  follow!"  that  man  is  not  only  a  surgeon  or 
a  physician,  he  is  also  prodigiously  witty.  So  the 
patient  and  assiduous  observer  of  mankind  will 
legitimatize  Desplein's  exorbitant  pretensions,  and 
regard  him,  as  he  regarded  himself,  fit  to  make  as 
great  a  minister  as  he  was  a  surgeon. 

From  among  the  enigmas  which  Desplein's  life 
presented  to  several  of  his  contemporaries,  we  have 


320  THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS 

chosen  one  of  the  most  interesting,  because  the  key 
to  it  will  be  found  at  the  close  of  the  narrative,  and 
will  defend  it  against  some  stupid  accusations. 

Of  all  the  students  whom  Desplein  had  at  his 
hospital,  Horace  Bianchon  was  one  of  those  to  whom 
he  was  most  warmly  attached.     Before  being  house 
surgeon  at  the  Hotel-Dieu,    Horace  Bianchon  had 
been  a  student  in  medicine,   living  in  a  wretched 
boarding-house  in  the  Latin  quarter  which  bore  the 
name  of  Maison  Vaiiqvier.     This  poor  young  man 
there  felt  the  pangs  of  that  dire  poverty,  a  sort  of 
crucible  from  which  great  talent  must  come  out  pure 
and  incorruptible  as  diamonds,  that  can  be  subjected 
to  all  sorts  of  shocks  without  being  broken.     In  the 
raging  fire  of  their  unchained  passions  they  acquire 
the  staunchest  probity,  and  contract  the  habit  of 
struggling,  that  awaits  genius  in  the  constant  work 
to  which  they  have  confined  their  cheated  appe- 
tites.    Horace  was  an  upright  young  man,  incapable 
of  shuffling  in  questions  of  honor,  getting  to  the 
point  without  circumlocution,  ready  to  pledge  his 
cloak  for  his  friends,  as  well  as  to  give  them  his 
time  and  his  vigils.     Horace  was,   in  fine,  one  of 
those  friends  who  are  not  disturbed  about  what  they 
receive  in  exchange  for  what  they  give,  certain  of 
receiving  in  return  more  than  they  may  bestow. 
Most  of  his  friends  had  for  him  that  internal  respect 
inspired   by  modest  virtue,    and   several   of  them 
dreaded  his  censure.     But  these  qualities  Horace 
displayed  unpedantically.     Neither  a  Puritan  nor  a 
sermonizer,  he  swore  genteelly  while  giving  advice, 


THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS  32 1 

and  readily  made  one  of  a  merry  party  when  occa- 
sion offered.  A  jolly  companion,  no  more  a  prude 
than  is  a  cuirassier,  a  downright  plain  man,  not 
exactly  like  a  marine,  for  the  marine  of  to-day  is  a 
shrewd  diplomatist,  but  like  a  fme  young  man  who 
has  nothing  to  disguise  in  his  life,  he  went  along 
with  a  high  head  and  pleasant  thoughts.  In  fme,  to 
express  everything  in  a  word,  Horace  was  a  com- 
bination of  Pylades  and  Orestes,  creditors  being 
taken  nowadays  as  the  most  real  figure  of  the 
ancient  Furies.  He  bore  his  poverty  with  that 
gaiety  which  perhaps  is  one  of  the  chief  elements 
of  courage,  and,  like  all  those  who  have  nothing,  he 
contracted  few  debts.  Sober  as  a  camel,  alert  as  a 
stag,  he  was  firm  in  his  ideas  and  in  his  conduct. 
Bianchon's  happy  life  began  from  the  day  when  the 
illustrious  surgeon  acquired  proof  of  the  qualities  and 
defects  which,  equally,  make  Doctor  Horace  Bian- 
chon  doubly  dear  to  his  friends.  When  a  clinic 
director  takes  a  young  man  on  his  lap,  that  young 
man,  as  the  saying  is,  has  his  foot  in  the  stirrup. 
Desplein  did  not  fail  to  take  Bianchon  to  assist 
him  in  rich  houses,  where  nearly  always  some 
honorarium  fell  into  the  student-boarder's  purse, 
and  where  were  gradually  revealed  to  the  provin- 
cial the  mysteries  of  Parisian  life;  he  kept  him  in 
his  office  during  his  consultations,  and  made  use  of 
him  there;  sometimes  he  sent  him  to  accompany  a 
rich  patient  to  the  springs;  in  fine,  he  prepared  a 
practice  for  him.  As  a  result  of  this,  after  a  cer- 
tain time,  the  tyrant  of  surgery  had  a  most  devoted 
21 


322  THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS 

follower.  These  two  men,  one  at  the  pinnacle  of 
honor  and  his  profession,  enjoying  immense  wealth 
and  immense  glory,  the  other,  a  modest  omega, 
having  neither  means  nor  glory,  became  fast 
friends.  The  great  Desplein  told  his  student- 
boarder  everything;  the  student  knew  whether 
such  a  woman  sat  on  a  chair  near  the  master,  or  on 
the  famous  settee  that  was  in  the  office  and  on 
which  Desplein  slept:  Bianchon  knew  the  mys- 
teries of  that  lion  and  bull  temperament  which  at 
last  enlarged  and  amplified  beyond  measure  the 
bust  of  the  great  man  and  caused  his  death  from 
heart  development.  He  studied  the  oddities  of  that 
life  so  busy,  the  plans  of  that  avarice  so  sordid,  the 
hopes  of  the  politician,  hidden  in  the  scholar;  he 
could  foresee  the  disappointments  that  awaited  the 
only  feeling  buried  in  that  heart  that  was  less 
bronze  than  bronzed. 

One  day  Bianchon  said  to  Desplein  that  a  poor 
water-carrier  of  the  Saint- Jacques  quarter  had  a 
dreadful  malady  due  to  fatigue  and  poverty;  that 
poor  Auvergnat  had  eaten  only  potatoes  during  the 
whole  winter  of  1821.  Desplein  left  all  his  patients. 
At  the  risk  of  killing  his  horse  he  flew,  followed  by 
Bianchon,  to  the  poor  man's  home  and  had  him 
transferred,  himself,  to  a  sanitarium  established  by 
the  famous  Dubois  in  the  Faubourg  Saint-Denis. 
He  went  to  take  care  of  this  man,  to  whom,  when  | 

he  had  cured  him,  he  gave  the  sum  necessary  to 
buy  a  horse  and  tank-cart.  That  Auvergnat  distin- 
guished himself  by  an  original  trait.     One  of  his 


■^ 


THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS  323 

friends  fell  sick,  he  brought  him  at  once  to  Des- 
plein,  saying  to  his  benefactor : 

"I  would  not  have  allowed  him  to  go  to  anyone 
else." 

Surly  as  he  was,  Desplein  pressed  the  water- 
carrier's  hand  and  said  to  him  : 

"Bring  them  all  to  me." 

And  he  had  the  Le  Cantal  youth  admitted  to  the 
Hotel-Dieu,  where  he  took  the  greatest  care  of  him. 
Bianchon  had  on  several  occasions  already  remarked 
in  his  chief  a  predilection  for  Auvergnats  and  es- 
pecially for  water-carriers;  but,  as  Desplein  took  a 
sort  of  pride  in  his  Hotel-Dieu  treatments,  the  pupil 
saw  nothing  very  strange  in  that. 

One  day,  while  crossing  the  Place  Saint-Sulpice, 
Bianchon  saw  his  master  entering  the  church  about 
nine  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Desplein,  who  never 
went  a  step  at  that  time  without  his  cab,  was  on 
foot,  and  was  slipping  in  by  the  door  of  the  Rue  du 
Petit-Lion,  as  if  he  were  entering  a  house  of  doubt- 
ful character.  Naturally  seized  with  curiosity,  the 
student-boarder,  who  knew  his  master's  opinions 
and  who  was  an  adept  in  dyablerie  with  a  y — which 
seems  in  Rabelais  to  be  a  superior  sort  of  diablerie, 
— Bianchon  stole  into  Saint-Sulpice,  and  was  more 
than  a  little  astonished  at  seeing  the  great  Desplein, 
that  atheist  who  had  no  pity  for  the  angels,  who 
give  no  opportunity  to  ply  the  scalpel,  and  cannot 
have  fistula  or  gastritis,  in  fme,  that  intrepid  ^m^^r, 
humbly  kneeling,  and  where? — In  the  Virgin's 
chapel,  in  front  of  whose  altar  he  heard  a  Mass, 


324  THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS 

contributed  to  the  expense  of  the  service,  gave  to  the 
poor,  while  remaining  as  serious  as  if  there  were 
question  of  an  operation. 

"He  certainly  has  not  come  to  get  enlightened  on 
questions  bearing  on  the  Virgin's  confinement," 
Bianchon  said  to  himself,  while  seized  with  un- 
bounded astonishment  "If  I  had  seen  him  hold- 
ing, on  the  feast  of  Corpus  Christi,  one  of  the  cords 
of  the  canopy,  there  would  be  nothing  to  do  but 
laugh;  but,  at  this  hour,  alone,  without  witnesses, 
there  is  certainly  something  to  think  about  in 
this!"  ^ 

Bianchon  did  not  want  to  appear  as  if  spying  on 
the  chief  surgeon  of  the  Hotel-Dieu,  and  so  he  left. 
By  chance  Desplein  invited  him  that  very  day  to 
dine  out  with  him,  at  a  restaurant.  Between  the 
fruit  and  the  cheese  Bianchon  came,  after  skilful 
preparations,  to  speak  of  the  Mass,  characterizing  it 
as  mummery  and  farce. 

"A farce,"  said  Desplein,  "that  has  cost  Chris- 
tianity more  blood  than  all  of  Napoleon's  battles  and 
all  of  Broussais*  leeches!  The  Mass  is  a  Papal  in- 
vention that  does  not  go  back  any  farther  than  the 
sixth  century  and  that  was  based  on  the  hoc  est 
corpus.  What  torrents  of  blood  has  it  not  been 
necessary  to  shed  in  order  to  establish  the  feast  of 
Corpus  Christi,  by  the  institution  of  which  the 
court  of  Rome  wanted  to  show  its  victory  in  the 
matter  of  the  Real  Presence,  a  schism  which,  for 
three  centuries,  troubled  the  Church !  The  wars  of 
the  Comte  de  Toulouse  and  the  Albigenses  are  the 


THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS  325 

tail  end  of  this  affair.     The   Waldenses   and   the 
Albigenses  refused  to  acknowledge  this  innovation. " 

In  fine,  Desplein  took  pleasure  in  giving  himself 
up  to  his  atheistic  whim,  and  it  was  a  flux  of  Vol- 
tairean  pleasantries,  or,  to  be  more  correct,  a  de- 
testable counterfeit  of  the  Ciiateur. 

"Oh!  dear!"  Bianchon  said  to  himself,  "where 
is  my  devotee  of  this  morning?" 

He  kept  silent,  he  doubted  that  he  had  seen  his 
chief  in  Saint-Sulpice.  Desplein  would  not  have 
taken  the  trouble  to  lie  to  Bianchon:  both  of  them 
knew  each  other  too  well,  they  had  already,  on 
points  quite  as  serious,  exchanged  views,  discussed 
systems  de  naiura  rerum  by  sounding  them  or  dis- 
secting them  with  the  knives  and  the  scalpel  of  in- 
credulity. Three  months  passed.  Bianchon  did 
not  follow  up  that  fact,  though  it  remained  engraven 
in  his  memory.  In  that  year,  one  day,  one  of  the 
physicians  of  the  Hotel-Dieu  took  Desplein  by  the 
arm  in  Bianchon's  presence,  as  if  to  interrogate  him. 

"What,  then,  did  you  go  to  Saint-Sulpice  to  do, 
my  dear  master?"  he  said  to  him. 

"To  see  a  priest  there,  who  has  caries  of  the 
knee,  and  whom  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  did  me 
the  honor  to  recommend  to  me,"  said  Desplein. 

The  physician  was  satisfied  with  this  defeat,  but 
not  Bianchon. 

"Ah!  he  goes  to  see  diseased  knees  in  church! 
He  went  to  hear  his  Mass,"  the  student-boarder 
said  to  himself. 

Bianchon  made  up  his  mind  to  lie   in  wait  for 


326  THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS 

Desplein;    he  remembered  the  day  and  the  hour 
when    he    had   unexpectedly  found   him   entering 
Saint-Sulpice,  and  resolved  to  go  there  the  follow- 
ing year,  on  the  same  day  and  at  the  same  hour,  so 
as  to  find  out  if  he  would  catch  him  there  again. 
In  that  case  the  regularity  of  his  devotion  would 
call  for  a  scientific  investigation,  for  one  must  not 
expect  to  find  in  such  a  man  a  direct  contradiction 
between  thought  and  action.     The  following  year, 
on  the  day  and  at  the  hour  aforesaid,  Bianchon,  who 
was  no  longer  Desplein's  student-boarder,  saw  the 
surgeon's  cab  stop  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  Tour- 
non  and  the  Rue  du  Petit-Lion,  whence  his  friend 
went  jesuitically  along  the  walls  to  Saint-Sulpice, 
where  he  again  heard  his  Mass  at  the  Virgin's  altar. 
It  was  Desplein  indeed!    the  surgeon-in-chief,  the 
atheist  in  petto,  the  devotee  by  chance.     The  plot 
was  thickening.     This  illustrious  scholar's  persist- 
ence  was   complicating   everything.     When    Des- 
plein had  left,  Bianchon  approached  the  sacristan 
who  came  to  see  to  the  chapel,  and  asked  him  if 
that  gentleman  was  a  regular. 

"For  twenty  years  have  I  been  here,"  said  the 
sacristan,  "and  in  that  time  Monsieur  Desplein  has 
come  four   times   a  year   to   hear   this   Mass;   he  | 

founded  it." 

"A  foundation  made  by  him!"  said  Bianchon,  as 
he  left.  "That  is  worth  the  mystery  of  the  Immac- 
ulate Conception,  a  thing  which,  of  itself  alone, 
should  make  a  physician  an  unbeliever." 

Some  time  passed  before  Doctor  Bianchon,  though 


THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS  327 

Desplein's  friend,  was  in  a  position  to  speak  to  him 
of  that  special  incident  in  his  life.  If  they  met  in 
consultation  or  in  the  world,  it  was  difficult  to  find 
that  moment  of  confidence  and  solitude  when  one 
remains  with  his  feet  on  the  fender  and  his  head 
resting  on  the  back  of  an  armchair,  and  during 
which  two  men  tell  each  other  their  secrets.  At 
last,  seven  years  later,  after  the  Revolution  of  1830, 
when  the  people  rushed  on  the  Archbishop's  Palace, 
when  their  republican  inspirations  drove  them  to 
destroy  the  gilded  crosses  that  beamed,  like  flashes 
of  lightning,  in  the  immensity  of  that  ocean  of 
houses;  when  Unbelief,  side  by  side  with  Riot, 
stalked  in  the  streets,  Bianchon  again  caught  Des- 
plein  entering  Saint-Sulpice.  The  doctor  followed 
him  thither,  took  his  station  near  him,  without  his 
friend  making  him  the  least  sign  or  showing  the 
least  surprise.     Both  heard  the  memorial  Mass. 

"Will  you  tell  me,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Bianchon 
to  Desplein  after  they  had  left  the  church,  "the 
reason  for  your  capticmade  ?  I  have  already  en- 
trapped you  three  times  going  to  Mass,  yes,  you! 
You  will  set  me  right  on  this  mystery,  and  explain 
to  me  this  flagrant  disagreement  between  your 
opinions  and  your  conduct.  You  do  not  believe  in 
God,  and  you  go  to  Mass!  My  dear  master,  you 
are  bound  to  answer  me." 

"I  am  like  many  devotees,  men  profoundly  reli- 
gious in  appearance,  but  as  much  atheists  as  we, 
you  and  I,  can  be." 

And  then  followed  a  torrent  of  epigrams  on  some 


328  THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS 

political  personages,  the  best  known  of  whom  gives 
us  in  this  age  a  new  edition  of  Moliere's  Tartiife. 

"I  do  not  ask  all  that  of  you,"  said  Bianchon;  "I 
want  to  know  the  reason  for  what  you  have  just 
done  here,  why  you  founded  this  Mass." 

"Faith,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Desplein,  "I  am  on 
the  edge  of  the  grave,  I  may  well  speak  to  you  of 
the  beginnings  of  my  life." 

Just  then  Bianchon  and  the  great  man  found 
themselves  in  the  Rue  des  Quatre- Vents,  one  of  the 
most  horrible  streets  in  Paris.  Desplein  pointed  to 
the  seventh  story  of  one  of  those  houses  that  resem- 
ble an  obelisk,  the  mongrel  door  of  which  opens  on 
an  alley  at  the  end  of  which  is  a  tortuous  stairway 
lighted  by  windows  justly  called  borrowed  lights.  It 
was  a  greenish  house,  on  the  ground  floor  of  which 
lived  a  furniture  dealer,  and  which  appeared  to 
lodge  on  each  of  its  stories  a  different  form  of  pov- 
erty. On  raising  his  arm,  with  a  motion  full  of 
energy,  Desplein  said  to  Bianchon : 

"I  lived  up  there  for  two  years!" 

"1  know  it,  D'Arthez  lived  there,  I  came  almost 
every  day  during  my  early  youth,  we  then  called  it 
the  great  men's  den  !     After  that  ?" 

"The  Mass  that  1  have  just  heard  is  connected 
with  events  which  took  place  at  the  time  when  I 
dwelt  in  the  mansard  in  which  you  tell  me  D'Arthez 
lived,  that  from  the  window  of  which  floats  a  line 
loaded  with  linen  above  a  flower-pot.  I  had  such 
rough  beginnings,  my  dear  Bianchon,  that  I  can  dis- 
pute the  palm  of  Parisian  sufferings  with  anyone 


■V 


i 


THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS  329 

whomsoever.  I  suffered  in  every  respect:  hunger, 
thirst,  want  of  money,  want  of  clothes,  footwear 
and  linen,  all  that  is  most  miserable  in  poverty.  I 
blew  on  my  benumbed  fingers  in  that  great  men's 
den,  which  I  would  like  to  go  and  see  again  with 
you.  I  worked  during  a  winter  when  my  head 
reeked  with  vapor,  and  I  could  observe  my  breath 
as  we  see  that  of  horses  on  a  frosty  day.  I  do  not 
know  whence  one  derives  his  fulcrum  to  bear  up 
against  that  life.  I  was  alone,  unaided,  without  a 
sou  either  to  buy  books  or  to  pay  the  expenses  of 
my  medical  education;  without  a  friend:  my  irasci- 
ble, gloomy,  restless  character  injured  me.  No  one 
wanted  to  see  in  my  irritations  the  uneasiness  and 
work  of  a  man  who,  from  the  bottom  of  the  social 
scale  from  which  he  has  come,  stirs  himself  to  reach 
the  surface.  But  1  had,  I  can  tell  you,  you  before 
whom  I  do  not  need  to  hide  myself,  I  had  that 
groundwork  of  good  feelings  and  keen  sensibility 
which  will  always  be  the  appanage  of  men  strong 
enough  to  clamber  to  any  summit,  after  having 
picked  one's  steps  in  the  marshes  of  poverty.  I 
could  not  get  anything  from  my  family  nor  from 
my  country,  beyond  the  insufficient  allowance  for 
schooling  that  was  made  to  me.  In  fine,  at  that 
time  I  ate  in  the  morning  a  small  loaf  which  the 
baker  in  the  Rue  du  Petit-Lion  sold  to  me  at  a 
reduced  price  because  it  was  a  day  and  sometimes 
two  days  old,  and  1  steeped  it  in  milk:  my  morning 
repast  thus  cost  me  only  two  sous.  I  dined  only 
every  second  day  in  a  boarding-house  where  dinner 


330  THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS 

cost  sixteen  sous.  Thus  I  spent  only  nine  sous  a 
day.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  what  care  I  must 
have  taken  of  my  clothes  and  foot-wear !  1  do  not 
know  whether  later  on  we  experience  as  much  grief 
from  a  fellow-man's  treason  as  we  have  experienced, 
you  as  well  as  I,  on  perceiving  the  laughing  grimace 
of  a  shoe  that  is  ripped,  on  hearing  the  cuff  of  an 
overcoat  give  way.  1  drank  only  water,  1  had  the 
greatest  respect  for  cafes.  Zoppi  seemed  to  me  like 
a  promised  land  where  the  Luculli  of  the  Latin 
country  alone  had  the  right  to  be  present.  'Would 
I  ever  be  able!'  I  said  to  myself,  'there  to  take  a 
cup  of  coffee  with  cream,  there  to  play  a  hand  at 
dominoes?'  In  fine,  I  brought  to  my  labors,  the 
zeal  with  which  poverty  inspired  me.  1  tried  to 
secure  positive  knowledge  so  as  to  have  an  immense 
personal  value,  to  merit  the  place  at  which  I  would 
arrive  on  the  day  when  I  would  have  emerged  from 
my  nothingness.  1  consumed  more  oil  than  bread: 
the  light  that  enlightened  me  during  those  nights  of 
perseverance  cost  me  more  than  my  nourishment. 
That  duel  was  long,  obstinate,  without  consolation. 
I  awakened  no  sympathy  around  me.  To  have 
friends,  is  it  not  necessary  to  form  attachments  with 
young  folks,  to  have  a  few  sous  so  as  to  go  and  tip- 
ple with  them,  to  go  together  wherever  students  go? 
1  had  nothing!  And  nobody  in  Paris  pictures  to 
himself  that  nothing  is  nothing.  When  it  was 
necessary  to  disclose  my  poverty,  1  felt  in  the 
throat  that  nervous  contraction  which  makes  our 
patients    believe   that   a   ball    is    rising  from   the 


THE   ATHEIST'S  MASS  33 1 

oesophagus  into  the  larynx.  Later  on  I  met  some  of 
those  folks,  born  rich,  who,  having  never  wanted 
anything,  do  not  know  the  problem  of  this  rule  of 
three :  A  young  man  is  io  crime  as  a  hundred-sou 
piece  is  io  x.     These  gilded  imbeciles  say  to  me: 

"  'Why,  then,  did  you  run  into  debt?  why,  then, 
did  you  contract  onerous  obligations?' 

"They  remind  me  of  that  princess,  who,  knowing 
that  the  people  wanted  bread,  said:  'Why  don't 
they  buy  cake?'  I  would  like  to  see  the  one  of 
those  rich  folks  who  complains  that  I  charge  him  too 
much  when  it  is  necessary  to  operate  on  him,  yes,  I 
would  like  to  see  him  alone  in  Paris,  without  a 
cent,  without  a  friend,  without  credit,  and  forced  to 
work  with  his  five  fingers  for  a  living!  What 
would  he  do?  Whither  would  he  go  to  appease  his 
hunger?  Bianchon,  if  you  have  seen  me  sometimes 
sour  and  obdurate,  I  then  superimpose  my  first  sor- 
rows on  insensibility,  on  egoism,  of  which  I  have 
had  thousands  of  proofs  in  the  upper  spheres;  or 
rather  I  thought  of  the  obstacles  that  hatred,  envy, 
jealousy,  calumny,  raised  between  success  and  me. 
In  Paris,  when  certain  people  see  you  ready  to  put 
your  foot  in  the  stirrup,  some  take  you  by  the  flap  of 
your  coat,  others  loosen  the  buckle  of  the  girth  so 
that  you  may  fracture  your  skull  in  falling;  the  one 
unshoes  your  horse,  the  other  steals  your  whip:  the 
less  traitorous  is  he  whom  you  see  coming  to  shoot 
you  with  a  pistol  at  short  range.  You  have  enough 
talent,  my  dear  boy,  to  know  ere  long  of  the  hor- 
rible, incessant  battle  that  mediocrity  wages  on  the 


332  THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS 

superior  man.     If  you  lose  twenty-five  louis  of  an 
evening,  next  day  you  will   be  accused  of  being  a 
gambler,  and  your  best  friends  will  say  that  last 
night  you  lost  twenty-five  thousand  francs.     Have 
a   headache,    you   will    pass   for   a   madman.      Be 
lively,  you  will  be  unsociable.     If,  to  resist  that 
battalion  of  pygmies,  you  summon  up  in  yourself 
superior  strength,  your  best  friends  will  exclaim 
that  you  want  to  devour  everything,  that  you   pre- 
tend to  domineer,  to  tyrannize.     In  fine,  your  quali- 
ties will  become  defects,  your  defects  will  become 
vices,  and  your  virtues  will  be  crimes.    If  you  have 
saved  anyone,    you  will  have  killed  him;  if  your 
patient  reappears,  you  will  constantly  hear  that  you 
will    have   made   sure   of    the   present  at  the  ex- 
pense  of  the  future;  if   he    is   not  dead,    he   will 
die.      Stumble,     you    will    have    fallen!      Invent 
anything  you  may,  claim  your  rights,  you  will  be 
a  troublesome  man,  a  shrewd  man,  who  is  not  will- 
ing that  young  men  shall  succeed.     So,  my  dear 
friend,  if  I  do  not  believe  in  God,  I  believe  still  less 
in  man.     Do  you  not  recognize  in  me  a  Desplein 
entirely  different  from  the  Desplein  of  whom  every- 
one thinks?     But  let  us  not  delve  into  this  mass  of 
mud.     Well,  I  lived  in  that  house,  I  had  to  work  so 
as  to  be  able  to  pass  my  first  examination,  and  I 
had  not  a  farthing.     You  know !     I  had  reached  one 
of  those  last  extremities  when  one  says  to  himself: 
'I  will  run  into  debt!'  I  had  a  hope.     I  was  expect- 
ing from  my  province  a  trunk  full  of  linen,  a  present 
from  those  old  aunts  who,  knowing  nothing  of  Paris, 


THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS  333 

think  of  your  shirts,  imagining  that  with  thirty- 
francs  a  month  their  nephew  eats  ortolans.  The 
trunk  arrived  while  I  was  at  the  Ecole:  it  had  cost 
forty  francs  for  freight;  the  porter,  a  German  shoe- 
maker lodged  in  a  loft,  had  paid  for  them  and  kept 
the  trunk.  I  walked  along  the  Rue  des  Fosses- 
Saint-Germain-des-Pres  and  the  Rue  de  I'^cole-de- 
Medecine  without  being  able  to  invent  a  stratagem 
that  would  give  me  my  trunk  without  being  obliged 
to  pay  the  forty  francs,  that  naturally  I  would  have 
paid  after  having  sold  the  linen.  My  stupidity 
made  me  surmise  that  I  had  no  other  vocation  than 
surgery.  My  dear  boy,  delicate  souls,  whose 
strength  is  exercised  in  an  elevated  sphere,  lack 
that  spirit  of  intrigue,  fertile  in  resources,  in  com- 
binations; their  genius,  for  them,  is  chance:  they 
do  not  seek,  they  meet. 

"In  fme,  I  returned  at  night,  just  as  my  neighbor 
was  coming  home,  a  water-carrier  named  Bourgeat, 
a  man  from  Saint-Flour.  We  knew  each  other  as 
two  tenants  know  each  other,  who  have  each  his 
room  on  the  same  landing,  who  hear  each  other 
sleeping,  coughing,  dressing,  and  who  at  last  be- 
come accustomed  to  each  other.  My  neighbor  told 
me  that  the  landlord,  to  whom  I  owed  three  terms, 
had  turned  me  out:  1  would  have  to  quit  next  day. 
He  himself  was  driven  away  because  of  his  profes- 
sion. I  spent  the  saddest  night  of  my  life.  Where 
get  an  expressman  to  take  away  my  poor  household 
effects,  my  books .-'  How  pay  the  expressman  and  the 
porter  ?     Where  was  I  to  go  ?     These  unanswerable 


334  THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS 

questions  I  repeated  in  tears,  as  madmen  repeat 
their  refrains.  I  slept.  Poverty  has  for  itself  a 
heaven-born  sleep  full  of  beautiful  dreams.  Next 
morning,  just  as  I  was  eating  my  porringer  of  bread 
moistened  in  my  milk,  Bourgeat  entered  and  said  to 
me  in  bad  French : 

"  'Mishter  shtudent,  I  be  a  poor  man,  a  pick-up  of 
the  Shaint-Flour  hospital,  wit  no  fader  or  moder, 
and  be  not  so  rich  to  marry.  You  be  no  more  rich 
in  relations,  and  haven't  what  I  count  on?  Listen, 
I  have  down  there  a  hand-cart  as  I  rent  for  two 
shous  the  hour,  all  our  traps  can  go  in  it;  if  you 
like,  we  will  look  for  lodging  together,  as  we  be 
chased  from  here.  After  all,  it's  no  heaven  on 
earth  here. ' 

**  *I  know  it  well,  my  good  Bourgeat,'  I  said  to  i 

him.     'But  I  am  greatly  embarrassed :  I  have  down  '; 

there  a  trunk  that  contains  a  hundred  crowns'  worth  | 

of  linen,  with  which  I  could  pay  the  landlord  and  | 

what  I  owe  the  porter,  and  1  have  not  a  hundred  i 

sous. 

"'Bah!  I've  some  moneys,'  Bourgeat  answered 
joyously  as  he  showed  me  an  old  dirty  leather  purse. 
'Keep  your  linen.' 

"Bourgeat  paid  my  three  terms,  his  own,  and 
settled  with  the  porter.  Then  he  put  our  furniture 
and  my  linen  in  his  cart,  and  drew  it  through  the 
streets,  stopping  in  front  of  each  house  on  which 
a  notice  hung.  On  my  part,  I  went  up  to  see 
whether  the  lodging  for  rent  would  suit.  At  noon  we 
were  still  wandering  in  the  Latin  quarter  without 


THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS  335 

having  found  anything  there.  The  price  was  a 
great  obstacle.  Bourgeat  proposed  to  me  to  have 
breai<fast  at  a  wine  dealer's,  at  whose  door  we  left 
the  cart.  Toward  evening  I  discovered  in  the  Cour 
de  Rohan,  Passage  du  Commerce,  at  the  top  of  a 
house,  next  to  the  roof,  two  rooms  separated  by  the 
stairway.  We  got  them  each  for  sixty  francs  a 
year.  Here  we  are  housed,  I  and  my  humble  friend. 
We  dined  together.  Bourgeat,  who  made  about 
fifty  sous  a  day,  had  about  a  hundred  crowns,  he 
was  soon  going  to  be  able  to  realize  his  ambition  by 
buying  a  tank-cart  and  a  horse.  On  learning  of 
my  situation,  for  he  drew  my  secrets  from  me  with 
an  artful  depth  and  a  good-nature  the  memory  of 
which  even  now  stirs  my  heart,  he  gave  up  for  a 
time  the  ambition  of  his  whole  life:  Bourgeat  was 
a  dealer  on  the  street  for  twenty-two  years,  he  sac- 
rificed his  hundred  crowns  to  my  future." 

Here  Desplein  violently  pressed  Bianchon's  arm. 

"He  gave  me  the  money  necessary  for  my  ex- 
aminations! That  man,  my  friend,  understood  that 
I  had  a  mission,  that  the  requirements  of  my  intel- 
lect exceeded  his  own.  He  was  interested  in  me, 
he  called  me  his  little  fellow,  he  loaned  me  the 
money  necessary  to  buy  my  books,  he  came  some- 
times very  softly  to  see  me  working;  in  fine,  he 
took  the  precautions  of  a  mother  to  get  me  to  sub- 
stitute for  the  insufficient  and  poor  diet,  to  which  I 
had  been  reduced,  healthy  and  abundant  food. 
Bourgeat,  a  man  about  forty  years  old,  had  a 
medieval  burgher  countenance,  an  arched  forehead, 


336  THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS 

a  head  that  a  painter  might  have  made  to  pose  as  a 
model  for  a  Lycurgus.     The  poor  man  felt  his  heart 
big  with  affections  to  bestow;   he  had  never  been 
loved  but  by  a  poodle  that  had  died  a  short  time 
before,  and  of  which  he  always  spoke  to  me,  asking 
me  if  I  thought  the  Church  would  consent  to  hav- 
ing Masses  said  for  the  repose  of  its  soul.     His  dog, 
he    said,   was  a  true   Christian,   that,   for   twelve 
years,   had   accompanied    him   to  Church  without 
having  ever  barked,  listening  to  the  organ  without 
opening  its  mouth,  and  staying  crouched  near  him, 
with  a  mien  which  made  him  believe  that  it  was 
praying  with  him.      That  man  transferred  all  his 
affections  to  me:  he  took  me  as  a  lone  and  suffering 
being;  he  became  to  me  as  a  most  attentive  mother, 
a  most  delicate  benefactor,  in  fine,  the  ideal  of  that 
virtue  which  takes  pleasure  in  its  work.     When  I 
met  him  in  the  street,  he  cast  on  me  a  look  of  intel- 
ligence   full    of    inconceivable    nobility:    he  then 
affected  to  walk  as  if  he  were  carrying  nothing,  he 
seemed  happ)^  at  seeing  me  in  good  health  and  well- 
clad.     It  was,  in  fine,  the  devotedness  of  the  peo- 
ple, the  love  of  the  grisette  transferred  to  an  ele- 
vated sphere.     Bourgeat  attended  to  my  errands,  he 
woke  me  up  during  the   night  at  fixed  hours,  he 
cleaned  my  lamp,  he  scrubbed  our  landing;  as  good 
a  house-servant  as  he  was  a  father,  and  as  cleanly 
as  an  English  girl.     He  attended  to  the  housekeep- 
ing.    Like  Philopoemen,  he  sawed  our  wood,  and 
gave  to  all  his  actions  the  simplicity  of  practice, 
at  the  same  time  preserving  his   dignity,   for  he 


THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS  337 

seemed  to  understand  that  the  end  ennobled  every- 
thing. When  I  left  that  fine  fellow  to  enter  the 
Hotel-Dieu  as  a  house-surgeon  he  felt  an  inde- 
scribably gloomy  grief,  thinking  that  he  could  no 
longer  live  without  me;  but  he  consoled  himself 
with  the  prospect  of  amassing  the  money  necessary 
for  the  expenses  of  my  thesis,  and  he  made  me 
promise  to  come  and  see  him  on  outing  days. 
Bourgeat  was  proud  of  me,  he  loved  me  on  my  own 
account  and  his.  If  you  look  up  my  thesis,  you 
will  see  that  it  is  dedicated  to  him.  In  the  last 
year  of  my  residence,  I  had  saved  up  enough  money 
to  pay  back  all  that  I  owed  to  that  worthy  Auver- 
gnat,  by  buying  a  horse  and  tank-cart  for  him;  he 
was  exceedingly  angry  when  he  knew  that  1  de- 
prived myself  of  my  money,  and  yet  he  was  de- 
lighted at  seeing  his  wishes  realized;  he  laughed 
and  scolded  me,  he  looked  at  his  tank  and  his  horse, 
and  wiped  away  a  tear  as  he  said  to   me : 

"'That's  bad!  Ah !  what  a  fme  tank !  You  were 
wrong — The  horse  is  as  strong  as  an  Auvergnat. ' 

"I  have  seen  nothing  more  touching  than  that 
scene.  Bourgeat  wanted  absolutely  to  buy  for  me 
that  instrument  case  finished  in  silver  which  you 
have  seen  in  my  office,  and  which  to  me  is  the  most 
precious  thing  in  it.  Though  overcome  with  de- 
light at  my  early  success,  he  never  showed  the 
slightest  sign,  by  word  or  gesture,  that  would 
mean:  'I  made  that  man!'  And  yet,  without  him, 
poverty  would  have  killed  me.  The  poor  man  had 
worn  himself  out  for  me:  he  had  eaten  only  bread 

22 


338  THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS 

rubbed  in  garlic,  so  that  I  might  have  enough  coffee 
to  keep  me  awake.  He  fell  sick.  As  you  may 
imagine,  I  spent  nights  at  his  bedside,  I  pulled  him 
through  the  first  time ;  but  he  had  a  relapse  two 
years  later,  and,  in  spite  of  the  most  assiduous  care, 
in  spite  of  the  greatest  efforts  of  science,  he  had  to 
succumb.  Never  was  king  better  cared  for  than  he. 
Yes,  Bianchon,  I  tried  unheard-of  things  in  order  to 
snatch  that  life  from  death.  I  wanted  to  have  him 
live  long  enough  to  make  him  witness  his  work,  to 
realize  his  wishes,  to  satisfy  the  only  gratitude  that 
has  filled  my  heart,  to  extinguish  a  fire  that  is  burn- 
ing me  even  now! 

"Bourgeat,"  continued  Desplein  after  a  pause, 
with  visible  emotion,  "my  second  father  died  in  my 
arms,  leaving  me  all  that  he  owned  by  a  will  that 
he  had  made  at  a  public  scrivener's,  and  bearing 
date  of  the  year  in  which  we  had  come  to  lodge  in 
the  Cour  de  Rohan.  That  man  had  the  faith  of  a 
charcoal  man.  He  loved  the  Blessed  Virgin  as  he 
would  have  loved  his  wife.  Though  an  ardent 
Catholic,  he  had  never  said  a  word  to  me  about  my 
irreligion.  When  he  was  in  danger,  he  entreated 
me  to  spare  no  pains  that  he  might  have  the  assist- 
ance of  the  Church.  1  had  Mass  said  for  him 
every  day.  Often  during  the  night  he  told  me  he 
had  fears  for  his  future,  he  was  afraid  he  had  not 
lived  a  sufficiently  holy  life.  The  poor  man!  He 
worked  from  morning  until  evening.  To  whom, 
then,  should  Paradise  belong,  if  there  be  a  Para- 
dise ?    He  received  the  last  rites  like  a  saint  that  he 


THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS  339 

was,  and  his  death  was  worthy  of  his  life.  His 
funeral  was  attended  only  by  myself.  When  I  had 
put  my  only  benefactor  under  the  sod,  I  inquired 
how  I  should  pay  my  indebtedness  to  him;  I  saw 
that  he  had  neither  family,  nor  friends,  nor  wife, 
nor  children.  But  he  believed!  He  had  a  religious 
conviction,  had  I  the  right  to  dispute  it?  He  had 
timidly  spoken  to  me  of  Masses  said  for  the  repose 
of  the  dead,  he  did  not  want  to  impose  this  duty  on 
me,  thinking  that  it  would  be  enforcing  payment  for 
his  services.  As  soon  as  I  was  able  to  endow  a 
foundation,  I  gave  to  Saint-Sulpice  the  sum  neces- 
sary to  have  four  Masses  a  year  said  there.  As  the 
only  thing  that  I  can  offer  to  Bourgeat  is  the  satis- 
fying of  his  pious  wishes,  the  day  on  which  that 
Mass  is  said,  at  the  beginning  of  each  season,  I  go 
in  his  name  and  recite  for  him  the  desired  prayers. 
I  say  with  the  good  faith  of  the  doubter:  'O  God, 
if  there  is  a  sphere  in  which  are  put  after  their 
death  those  who  have  been  perfect,  think  of  good 
Bourgeat;  and  if  there  is  anything  to  be  suffered  on 
his  account,  give  me  his  sufferings,  so  that  he  may 
gain  admittance  the  more  speedily  into  what  people 
call  Paradise.'  That,  my  dear  fellow,  is  all  that  a 
man  holding  my  opinions  can  do.  Were  God  but  a 
good  devil.  He  would  not  bear  me  ill-will  for  it  I 
swear  to  you  that  I  would  give  all  I  am  worth  to  have 
Bourgeat's  faith  enter  my  head." 

Bianchon,  who  attended  Desplein  in  his  last  ill- 
ness, dares  not  now  assert  that  the  famous  surgeon 
died  an  atheist.     Will  not  believers  like  to  think  of 


340 


THE  ATHEIST'S  MASS 


the  humble  Auvergnat  coming  to  open  the  gate  of 
Heaven  to  him,  as  he  of  old  opened  the  gate  of  the 
terrestrial  temple  on  whose  fagade  we  read :  Aux 
grands  hommes  la  pairie  reconnaissante — a  grateful 
country  to  its  great  men — ? 


Paris,  January,  1836. 


LIST  OF    ETCHINGS 


VOLUME   XV 

PAGB 

PIERROTIN   PRESENTED  TO  MME.  CLAPART  •  Fronts. 

THE  COUNT  DE  SERIZY  OVERHEARS 112 

THE   COUNT,   A\OREAU    AND   OSCAR l6o 

MME.  FIRMIANI,  DE  BOURBONNE  AND  OCTAVE  .    •  280 

THE  COUNTESS  AT  MY  BED 289 


15  N.  &  R.,  Start.  34I 


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